


Agents of Prompts

by ddagent



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Academy Era, Airports, Alley Sex, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Parents, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - TV Show Au, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Babies, Desk Sex, Episode Tag, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family, Handcuffs, Jealousy, Leverage AU, Memory Loss, Now You See Me AU, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Romance, Season/Series 02, Sex Pollen, Single Parents, Temporary Character Death, The Avengers - Freeform, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 28,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7741573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts originally posted to tumblr focusing on Phil Coulson and Melinda May, as well as their relationship with other MCU characters. Stories include everything from AUs to episode tags. Each chapter will have it's own title and pairing in the description.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "The Director" [Philinda - Desk Sex]

**Author's Note:**

> suallenparker prompted "Desk Sex" [This is set prior to 2.01]
> 
> This was my *first* ever attempt at Philinda fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it.

 

“Melinda, slow down!" 

"No, we have to hurry! The office won’t be empty for long.”

Phil chuckled as he was dragged along the halls until they reached their destination. They’d gone out for dinner with the team but instead of heading to the bar with the rest of them, they’d gone back to sleep. Although sleeping hadn’t been on Melinda May’s mind, and neither had it been on his. 

When they reached the door, Melinda dropped to the floor and picked a bobby pin out of her hair. She worked the lock while Phil worked on removing the rest of the pins from her hair. God he loved her hair. So smooth and flowing. He dragged his fingers through it, running along her scalp. She paused to enjoy his touch before she focussed on getting the door open. 

“And there we have it.”

The door to the Director’s office opened before them. Phil exhaled, looking at the desk that had been their target all along. Maybe if they hadn’t ordered that second bottle of wine over dinner they wouldn’t even be  _considering_ this. But it was too late to back out now. 

With a glint in her eye, Melinda grabbed his hand again and pulled him into the office. Her hands didn’t stray far from the light blue shirt he had worn to dinner. His fingers caressed the fabric at her hips. He loved seeing her in dresses. He loved seeing her legs. Another of his favourite things. 

They only stopped when Melinda hit the edge of the desk. “So how do you want to do this?” Her fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt. “Straight on the edge, like this? Or we could throw all the stuff to the floor and do it right on top." 

"This is a secret mission, May. I don’t think tossing all the director’s paperwork to the floor would be a good idea." 

"I don’t think Director Coulson would mind too much." 

He chuckled, cupping the sides of her face to kiss her long and deep. He never got tired of kissing her. "You know, I don’t think he would." 

Phil Coulson had never been an adventure guy. Sure he worked for SHIELD and his girlfriend was the best specialist they had, But breaking into his own office, knocking his files and laptop to the floor so Melinda could pin him to his desk? He had never been that guy. But then they’d both changed. 

"You know, every time I have a meeting in here I’m going to think about this night." 

"Good." 

Melinda straddled him, before reaching over to undo the rest of his shirt buttons. Her hands splayed over his chest, her fingers doing their customary dance over his scar. It never mattered how many times she saw it, she always treated it with reverence. His hands went to her waist, dragging the fabric of her dress up and over her head as he went. She was beautiful, achingly so. His fingers did their own tap dance, brushing over every mark. 

"You’re beautiful." 

Melinda May didn’t blush. But her thin lips would be as close as he would ever get to seeing it. "Come on, we need to do this quick." 

They both reached for the button over his trousers, struggling to undo it with the tented crotch. "I don’t see what the hurry is. This  _is_ my office." 

"And if Skye catches us again?”

“Duly noted. Pants down." 

He managed to finally undo that pesky button and pull his pants and boxer shorts down. Melinda hooked her thumbs at the side of her panties and wriggled them down her long legs. They both took a breath before she slid himself inside of her. 

"Oh  _god_ ,” Phil groaned, his hands finding her hips immediately. His grip was static, wanting to touch all of her at once. “God you’re amazing." 

"They’ll hear you." 

"Don’t care." 

Despite their initial hurry, Melinda took her time in riding him. Her movements were agonisingly slow, taking her time to breathe up and slam herself down. Her hands balled his shirt, tearing at the fabric.

Phil’s hands continued their journey up her body, sliding up her back to force her down to him. He needed her close. He needed her always. His release was close, and he buried his mouth in the curve of her neck to keep from screaming out. One hand curled in her hair, the other reached between them to give Melinda her own pleasure. 

They came together, mouths inches apart. Phil kept his eyes open as he watched Melinda come away at the seams. She was beautiful in all moments. But these ones were so intimate that he couldn’t help but be in awe of them. 

"We should probably go before security comes,” Phil said, panting. “Wouldn’t want to get into the Director’s bad books." 

She smiled before offering her hand to him to help him off the desk. They found all their clothes eventually, everything apart from Melinda’s underwear. It was a mystery, one that required two SHIELD agents to crack.

Phil did have a lead. His desk drawer was a good place to start looking. But not tonight.


	2. "Homecoming" [Philinda & Skye - Family AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aryalis prompted "Skye being Coulson and May's daughter"

It was a rarity in SHIELD, but it had been accomplished. Two agents with a child. They took missions at different times, tried to be home for birthdays and holidays. Skye had been given everything her heart had desired: barbie dolls for her seventh birthday; a Captain America shield when she turned eight. She was loved by both her mother and father, although over the years things had changed. Bahrain has ensured that one parents was there in D.C. at all times, even if a part of her was somewhere else. 

But no matter what pieces were missing, Phil Coulson wouldn’t regret coming home for the world. He slid the key into the lock of the townhouse, sliding forward the front door. He’d spent the last two weeks in South America tracking a ‘package’. Calls and texts had been off limits. For Melinda, that was fine. She had signed onto that the day she’d signed up for SHIELD. But for Skye it was still an adjustment. A bigger adjustment than he’d anticipated, judging from the music blaring from her room. 

Sliding his duffel to the floor, Phil went in search of his partner. He found her in the study, her body undergoing the rhythm of tai-chi. 

“You’re back.” She offered him a warm smile. A smile like that from Melinda May was worth more than a banner and a ticker tape parade. “Successful op?" 

He nodded, perching himself on the corner of his desk. He loved watching her move like this. Elegant, graceful. She was the same when she fought or danced or made love. He couldn’t keep his eyes from her. "As well as could be expected. How’s she been?" 

Melinda’s movements faltered. "I got a call from Maria. Skye’s internet chatter  had been less than savoury. Our discussion turned into an argument. I’ve had to endure the same five songs for the last two days.”

“I’ll try and talk to her, but I’m not sure I’ll fair much better. Absentee father after all." 

She noted his bitterness, and continued it with her own. "Better than an emotionally removed mother.” Her movements stilled completely then, her gaze turning towards the carpet. He knew that face. He’d talked her out of acting on that face several times. 

Reaching for her hands, Phil drew her into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her back, pressed his face into the curve of her neck. Even after all they’d been through, coming home to Melinda May was still an intoxicating experience. Especially when she let him in and gripped him back just as tight. He needed her, Skye needed them both. They would be okay.

“You’re back.”

They hadn’t noticed the music stop. When they pulled away from each other they saw their seventeen year old rest her petite frame against the doorway. Phil knew that his girls had their problems, but they were incredibly alike. He saw the Melinda he had first met in Skye, right down to her inability to follow the rules. After two weeks away from them, his heart felt full once again. 

“Do I get a hug?” he joked, opening his free arm to let Skye burrow into his chest. She clung to him just as tightly as her mother had. “You been keeping out of trouble?" 

Skye cocked a grin from underneath his chin. "Nope. You?”

“Of course. Although I did find myself missing my girls." 

Skye continued to squeeze him tight, and Melinda’s hand still rested on the curve of his hip where his gun was. Maybe in a couple of years they would be ready to tell Skye everything: about SHIELD, about Bahrain. With no more secrets, with them both open and honest things could maybe go back to how they used to be. 

A man could dream, couldn’t he?


	3. "Desire" [Philinda - Sex Pollen]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suallenparker prompted "Sex pollen"
> 
> [Set during Season One]

“Okay, so HQ have asked we take the object back to the hub for further testing,” Coulson began, pausing for a second to lick his lips. “What can I smell? It smells delicious." 

May looked up from the paperwork in front of her. It was rare that Coulson would get so distracted, especially in the middle of a briefing. He was now sniffing the air, trying to track down this ‘delicious’ smell his nose had caught. May, frankly, couldn’t smell anything of the sort. There was the lingering scent of Fitz’ burnt toast, but that was it. 

"Maybe I’m imagining things.” A weak smile. “Okay, so where were we…HQ want us to bring the object back to the Hub so that’s where we’ll be going. Fitz, Simmons, get things ready for when we arrive. May, get the plane ready.” Coulson sneezed. “I must have caught a cold from somewhere. I can still smell that…god it smells good. Can anyone else smell that?" 

This was not a good sign. Fury had warned her to look out for anything odd, and even working for SHIELD this definitely came under that category. Coulson was still wrinkling his nose, so May cleared her throat discreetly and stood up. The room cleared, although Ward threw her back a look. She’d deal with him later. She was too concerned about Phil to bother with him. 

"Are you alright?" 

Coulson nodded, still smelling the air. "I’m fine. Just…god, I want to smell more of that. It’s incredible.” He turned to her, stepping forward and taking a long whiff. “Well what do you know…it’s you. You smell…incredible.”

Something was definitely wrong. Especially when Phil lunged forward and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She stood there, bearing his weight as he continued to breathe her in. He let out a groan against her skin, a groan so sexual that it made her shiver. She’d daydreamed about Phil having that sort of reaction to her, but never thought she’d ever experience it. 

“Melinda, oh Melinda." Another groan, followed by another long breath against her neck. Suddenly she felt something wet trace a line up one side of her neck. His tongue. "You even taste incredible.”

“Phil, I’m not sure if this is appropriate." 

Melinda found herself being pushed against the table. Phil was still desperately close, his hands cupping her hips while his mouth continued to hover over her skin. "Who cares about appropriate behaviour? Who cares when you smell this good, and taste this good and…” His hand brushed her cheek. “…feel this good. Melinda I need you!”

Phil went for a kiss, and Melinda managed to slide herself out of reach just in time. Something was very wrong. “Phil, I think you need medical attention.”

“Why would I need that? I don’t need Simmons. I need you, Melinda. I’ve always needed you.” He reached out his hand. “You’re incredible and beautiful and I just can’t get enough of you. Please, let me show you how much I need you." 

Phil had always been more open than she was, but he still kept his feelings close to his chest. Here he was, putting his heart on display for her to have, to hold, and as much as she wanted to take it she couldn’t. When he was well again, there would be a whole heap of embarrassment for him to cope with. They didn’t need her accepting his bizarre affections to make it worse. 

"Okay.” He beamed, skipping over to her and gathering her up in his arms. She slid her own around his neck, but kept him at bay. “But I need you to go see Simmons first." 

She could see the wheels go round in his head. "You want me to see Simmons first. Then I can show you how I feel, make love to you for hours on end, make you scream in pleasure, pleasure you’ve never experienced before?" 

"Of course. But Simmons first." 

"Anything for you." 

He was too quick this time. His lips pressed against hers, warm and inviting. They were soft too as they pressed kiss after kiss to her open mouth. His teeth even nipped at her bottom lip. When Phil pulled away, he was grinning. He took her by the hand and started leading her towards the lab. In his mind, the sooner they were done with Simmons, the sooner they could be alone. 

May was still stuck on their first kiss since Bahrain. She’d forgotten how soft his lips were.


	4. "Fantasy" [Philinda - Sex Pollen]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guardiansofshield prompted: "Hey, if you want to would you fancy writing more on that sex pollen fic? I'd be interested to see the scene where May takes him to see Simmons, and what she works out about the cause, and then how he acts with May when Jemma is in the room too? :)"
> 
> Sequel to Chapter Three.

Getting Phil down to the lab had been a task in itself. He thankfully hadn’t run off somewhere, instead he’d been stuck to her like glue. His arm had sneaked around her waist, and when she’d pulled ahead he’d grabbed her hand to pull her to him. Phil had tried kissing her several times, but she’d manage to twist just in time so they were planted on her cheeks. 

No need to make this any more complicated. 

“Finally, we’re at the lab. This isn’t going to take long, is it Melinda?” He took both her hands within his, his thumb brushing over her skin. “I’m just so desperate to be alone with you. Lock ourselves in my room, turn off the comms…you and me. Screw the rest of the world." 

She sucked in a breath before twisting in the direction of the lab. This was becoming harder with every passing minute. 

"Simmons, I need your help." 

Jemma came out of the lab, peering round the doors. As soon as May felt one of Phil’s arms slide around her back, the young scientist’s eyebrows went shooting up into her hair. "Right. I mean, I…I mean I always wondered if something had…I mean you two…" 

Another harsh breath. "We’re not." 

"Not what, Melinda?” Phil’s fingers tightened on her waist, his nose brushing against her ear. “God, you’re so amazing. I could stare into your eyes for hours. Are we nearly done?" 

"Not even close." 

Wrenching Phil’s hands off of her, she dragged the lead agent into the lab and planted him down on one of the seats. She squeezed his hands, encouraging him to stay. When that was done, she turned to Simmons and a curious Fitz in the corner. 

"Something is wrong with Agent Coulson. I need you to look him over, give me an answer as to what’s happening to him.”

Melinda looked over her shoulder to see Coulson resting his arms on the table, chin cupped in his hands. He was looking at her like a lovesick school boy, a dreamy expression overwhelming his face.

“Do it quickly.”

Taking a step back, May let Simmons advance so she could do a basic examination of Coulson. Despite having the young woman’s hands all over him, asking a number of questions, Coulson’s gaze never left hers. He was still smiling, occasionally biting his bottom lip. This wasn’t fair. She’d wanted some reaction in him, some demonstration of the feelings she wanted him to feel. This was almost punishment for her daring to dream about a man she could not have.

“He’s running a bit of a temperature, but apart from his…behaviour I can’t see much wrong until I do a blood work up,” Simmons explained, reaching for a needle. “It’ll be over in just a minute, Agent Coulson." 

He nodded, his grin still fixed. "Good. Once we’re done here, Melinda and I are going to go some place quiet where I can show how just how much I feel for her. Which is a lot. A lot a lot." 

Jemma threw a panicked look over her shoulder before sliding the needle into Coulson’s arm. He sneezed once, then again. "Have you been sneezing much recently, Agent Coulson?" 

She removed the needle. He grinned, already sliding off the stool ready to whisk Melinda away. "A little. Ever since we found the artefact my allergies have been acting up." 

Three sets of eyes turned to the artefact they’d stored in a locked box. Simmons had been very careful after the incident with the Chitauri, as had Fitz. May couldn’t remember Phil having much contact, but that wasn’t to say he hadn’t had any. A reaction to the object would explain his sudden affection. 

Phil came to her side in a flash, arms wrapped around her waist. His eyes gazed upon her like she was a goddess from the Nine Realms. "Are we done, Melinda?" 

May looked towards Jemma to see if she had any answers. "The blood work will be a little while. Just keep him comfortable, and keep him sedate." 

"Sedate. I can do that." 

Phil took her hand and raised it to his mouth. He left a delicate kiss there, like a gentleman in an old story. The two scientists turned away, Simmons burying herself in science while Fitz went beetroot red. Guess she was babysitting Coulson for the time being. As long as they didn’t cross over any lines, they would be okay. 

She would be strong. The fantasy was tempting but in the end that was all it was. A fantasy.


	5. "Jealousy" [Philinda & Thor]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aryalis prompted "jealous Phil"

His first thought after being told the Avengers were coming to the Playground was one of joy. His friends would know he was alive. He’d get to hang out with Captain America. At no time had he ever thought that it would be a problem.

 _Thor was a big problem_. 

Emphasis on the big. Guy was huge, with his arms and his hands and his hammer. When Skye hadn’t been comparing system analysis with Tony, she’d been eyeing up the Asgardian. _The dreamy Asgardian with the arms of a god._ Maybe if it had just been Skye, he could have coped. She was young, she deserved a crush on someone decent and true. 

Melinda’s crush on Thor, however, was unacceptable. 

“He’s so much better in person than in the video files.” He caught Melinda whispering to Skye one afternoon whilst the Avenger was working on something with Fitz. The two of them had stopped training to stare. 

“I know, right? He’s so dreamy…I would love a piece of that Asgardian beefcake." 

Phil rolled his eyes, brushing past them both so he could have a word with Trip and something. Behind him, he could still hear them whispering. They were close to giggling schoolgirls, gossiping over boys. He didn’t think Melinda gossiped, or giggled. Or smirked, in Melinda’s case. But that smirk was very telling. 

If it had just been the discussions with Skye, Phil could have kept it together. But apparently Sif had spoken in length with Thor about the great warrior known as Melinda May. He’d come back from having to yell at Tony and Skye about their internet history to find Melinda on her back with Thor on top of her. There were mats underneath, and Melinda didn’t stay on her back for long. She fought hard against the Asgardian, and held her own too. 

After their sparring session, Thor earned one of Melinda’s smiles. It wasn’t fair. Okay so Thor was handsome, and muscular and had somewhat  _dreamy_ facial expressions. But…there was no but. In a competition between the Prince of Asgard and the new Director of SHIELD, he came in last. 

"Are you well, Philip, Son of Coul?” Thor asked as he came down the stairs to the training floor. He could feel the glare radiating from his face. He just couldn’t help it. 

“Fine. I’m fine." 

He reached for a bottle of water, needing something to keep his hands busy so he didn’t do something stupid. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something like that to impress Melinda. Only the last time he’d spent an hour hanging from the balcony of an abandoned building. Getting into a sparring match with an Asgardian would be an even worse move. 

"Melinda May is a gifted warrior. If she were Asgardian, she’d join Sif and the Warriors Three in fighting by my side." 

An incredible honour. He had to smile at that. "She is incredible.”

Thor nodded, both of their gazes turning to Melinda discussing the new training rotations with Trip. “You are a very lucky man to have such a strong warrior as your bride. Many men in Asgard would happily fight you for her." 

Phil nodded along until his brain caught hold of something Thor has said. "Bride?”

“Yes, bride. Agent May is your intended, is she not?” Thor looked once more at Melinda. “The way you exchange looks, touches…I assumed that you were together. Is that not the case?" 

They’d been exchanging looks? The first smile Phil had had since the Avengers came bloomed on his face. "We’re together. Melinda is…we’re together." 

Thor clapped him on the shoulder. "I know Earth customs are different than on Asgard. But please inform me when you intend to be joined. I shall provide you with the largest beast Asgard has to grace your table." 

"Sure. That’s sound great." 

Thor left his side to resume sparring with May. Phil just stood by and watched, dumbstruck as to the whole thing. Ignoring the thought that he’d just informed Thor that he and May were engaged, he focussed on the looks and the touches that the Asgardian had seen. 

Maybe he didn’t come in last place after all. 


	6. "Go a Few Rounds" [Philinda]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "I know it's pretty difficult to write, but there are never enough Philinda sparring fics! So if you could write one I would forever be in your debt! lol"

He’d decided to take Melinda up on her offer, but not before running through every alternative to the extra energy he found himself having of late. He’d tried running on the treadmill, making breakfast for the team. Natasha had given him the name of a couple of strategy games to play but nothing had quenched the restless feeling he had upon waking. 

So his alarm had gone off at quarter to five, and at five sharp he found himself outside the lab in shorts and a t-shirt. Melinda had already pulled the training mats out. 

“I figured you’d come down this morning." 

He grinned. "Was I that obvious?" 

"Your room is next to mine. I heard you cursing about gamer points at one am." 

He chuckled before he joined Melinda on the mats. Sparring with Melinda had always been a pleasure, and a challenge. She was a gifted warrior, but Coulson had a few skills of his own. 

They started off slow. Coulson jabbed with his right, Melinda dodging it just as easily. Another jab, another duck. They were moving in circles, not quite dancing. God he loved when she danced. 

His momentary thought to an empty bar in Rio was enough for Melinda to throw her arm out. The blow knocked him, but he recovered quickly enough for his own hit to the ribs. Then the ground went out from under him, knocking him to the mats. Melinda stood over him, looking as beautiful as ever. She’d look better on the mats beside him. 

His feet caught her ankles, but she righted herself quicker. Standing to his own feet, Phil aimed another hit. She blocked it, but missed the one aiming for her left. A jab caught him on his shoulder blades, but he caught the knee heading for his thigh and spun her away. Melinda twisted just in time to aim an elbow to the base of his spine. His follow through was wide, but it still caught Melinda on the chin. 

He hadn’t seen her smile like that in years. 

She aimed a high kick for his chest that winded him. A follow through to his ankles saw his back smack hard against his mat. It wasn’t very sportsmanlike, but his hand couldn’t help yank Melinda’s own footing out from under her. She hit the mats with more grace than he could ever manage. He offered her a smile as she laid beside him. 

"Still feeling restless?" 

He managed a smile as he tried to recover his breath. "A little. You know, I’ve seen you spar with Ward. Why do I get the feeling you were going easy on me?" 

He’d missed that smirk. "I was easing you into it." 

Phil pushed himself up on his elbow, looking down on Melinda lying on the mats. A strand of hair had broken free from her tie. He pushed it away from her skin. "You don’t have to, you know." 

Her hand collided with his shoulder, pushing him to his back. Melinda pushed herself on top of him, her legs straddling his waist. "I know." 

It had come free again. But when his hand reached up, his thumb brushed along her bottom lip. Melinda leant forward, shortening the distance between them. His hand continued to stroke her face, the other toying with the strands of her hair. "Melinda…" 

Her mouth was so close to his. "Yes?" 

"Agent May?" 

 _Ward._ The Specialist was so close to being sent to Cornwall to provide security for their insect lab. He was thankful that Melinda didn’t jerk away from him, like they had been caught doing something wrong. With Melinda May, everything felt right. 

"I’m down here with Agent Coulson.”

Maybe tomorrow they could go a few more rounds. He missed the old days. 


	7. "Now You See Me" [Team]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suallenparker prompted: "Now You See Me!Philinda: The four horsemen meet for the first time"

She’d found the tarot card in her pocket after she’d ditched that guy on the ferry. There was a place and time inscribed on the back. It didn’t take her two seconds to decide to head out there. Skye had been waiting all her life for something like this to happen, some X-Files level magic to come swoop her up. She’d spent too long pick-pocketing smart asses and sleeping in bus shelters. Whatever this was, it was her chance. 

Skye got to the apartment complex later than she would have liked, but when she got to the apartment she realised she wasn’t alone. She recognised all three of her companions from the youtube videos she had watched over the years. Leo Fitz the illusionist. He’d been famous for making his pet monkey disappear. Then there was Jemma Simmons, whose magic went to the extreme. Harnesses and glass boxes - a ton of preparation. Antoine Triplett, the medium. Grandson of one of the old school psychics. 

“Holy shit,” Skye exclaimed, pushing down the hood of her jacket as she checked out her fellow magicians in arms. “I take it you all got one of these." 

They all held their cards up. Fitz was the first to come forward, offer his hand. "Leo Fitz. Illusionist. And you are?" 

"Skye. Just Skye.” Simmons offered her a smile. Trip a nod. “Why are we all standing out here?" 

Fitz sighed. "Doors locked, I’m afraid." 

Skye grinned, pushing forward and dropping to her knees. "Nothings ever locked, believe me." 

It took her just a few seconds to get the door open. It swung out in front of them. Here their journey began. 


	8. "Shuffling the Deck" [Philinda - Movie AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suallenparker prompted: "Now You See Me!Philinda: Phil was cast out on the case, he confronts Melinda about leaving him behind in the car"

Melinda recovered from her assault and headed down the fire escape immediately. Knives she could handle. Guns and bare hands too. Playing cards? Now that was a completely different ball game. She knew she shouldn’t have taken this case. Should have stayed in her little office and shuffled papers. 

Too late for that now. 

She threw herself through the front door of the building, her gaze immediately turning to the road to see where Skye had disappeared to. She was the pickpocket, the con artist. She didn’t have the same vanishing skills as Simmons did. After a pause she caught sight of her speeding away in a FBI issued car. 

Cursing, Melinda ran to find her own ride just as another FBI issue pulled up. Coulson was in the drivers seat. He leaned across and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

Not bothering to argue on who got to drive, Melinda jumped in the car. She only just closed the door before Coulson pulled away in pursuit. She had to admire the man’s tenacity, and his driving skills. His eyes were completely focused on the road, his hand shifting up the gear as he sped along behind Skye. 

“Does Vin Diesel teach Advanced Driving Skills at your agency?" 

It didn’t even raise a smile, instead his frown furrowed more. "Don’t joke with me. You left me outside, you left me behind. You never, ever do that to your partner!" 

"So we’re partners now?" 

Another harsh gear shift as they continued to trail Skye. "Yes. For now. And while we are, I’d appreciate being your partner.” One hand left the wheel to reach over and touch her cheek. The kid’s deck had caught her but it was no more than a scratch. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live. Can’t say the same for the Horsemen." 

That finally encouraged a smile on Coulson’s face. He was quite handsome when he smiled. He was handsome when he was angry too, but May didn’t have the luxury to think too long about that. Skye had just headed onto the bridge. May readied her gun, prepared to arrest the kid when they were close enough. 

It all happened too quickly. One moment they were chasing Skye along the bridge, the next moment her car spun and became wreckage. May didn’t think as she threw open the car door and ran for the car. She could smell gasoline and it wouldn’t be too long before the whole thing went up in flames. When she reached the wreck her hands tugged at the belt, trying to get the girl out of the car. 

"May, come on!” Coulson’s voice shouted to her. “May!”

She kept yanking at the belt, willing it to open. Suddenly a hand encircled her wrist, yanking her back. “May, let the girl go. May, let the girl go." 

He was right. She took the papers that Skye had taken from the Horsemen’s apartment, hopefully they would provide some evidence. Coulson managed to haul her away just as the car burst into flames. Sirens echoed down the bridge, joining them at the wreck. 

In one hand she held the singed papers that Skye had tried to hide. In the other was Coulson’s hand, his fingers gripping hers tight. She squeezed them back.


	9. "Briefing" [Philinda - Movie AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suallenparker prompted: "Now You See Me!Philinda: Phil gets introduced to Melinda. Do they know each other from before? Or do they meet for the first time?"
> 
> This doesn't quite match the previous two prompts, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

“You’re kidding me, right?" 

Agent Phil Coulson looked up from the file he had been given to Maria Hill sitting across from him. Before…the incident he’d been working several high profile cases, one of the Director’s most trusted agents. This case was ridiculous from start to finish. 

"Magicians?" 

Maria rolled her eyes before leaning forward. "I know it’s dumb, Phil." 

"Dumb? Dumb doesn’t even begin to describe it. There is no such thing as magic. SHIELD’s investigated that for years. This is just trickery, plain and simple. The FBI should be able to handle that." 

Maria tilted her head, acknowledging his doubts. But still she pushed the case file in front of him. "Fury wants you on this. Four magicians in Las Vegas robbed a bank in Paris, he wants to know how they did it. Their skills are on another level. Fury wants to make sure." 

The Director wanted him on this. That was enough for him to reach out and take the case file. Four magicians who’d hit it big time under the patronage of Ward Incorporated. A former pickpocketer, a washed up psychic, an ex-engineering student who had fallen out of academia and his old assistant. "Not quite Tony Stark." 

"No, they’re not. But the Director wants you on this. Just think of it as an easy first case. By the way, I never asked you - how was Tahiti?" 

Phil cocked a smile. "Now that was magical.” Golden beaches, long swims in the surf. It had just been what he’d needed to recover. “Will it just be me, or will I be getting a team?" 

"You’ll be getting a partner." 

He’d felt someone come into the room a half sentence before Maria spoke, and he turned his head to see who it was. He’d half expected it to be some Level Two agent, a rookie who also needed to be put on training wheels. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to see Melinda May. It had been a while since he’d seen her, but she was still a magnificent sight. 

"The Director got you back into the field for this?” Melinda nodded as she made her way over. “They must be more of a concern than you’re saying." 

Melinda had sat in the spare chair beside him. She looked good. Her hair was a little shorter than it had been the last time he’d seen her. But he kept his hands to himself, lest he feel just how short her hair was. 

"The Director thought it would be a good idea to have a specialist on board,” May explained. “I gave them a list of other names." 

"I’m glad its you." 

Phil wondered just how much of a test this was for both of them. His first mission since getting injured, May’s first time out of the field since Bahrain. Four magicians. Simple, easy. Figure out their tricks, write the report and they could both go back to how things were before. 

Even if it was a meagre excuse for an investigation, he was glad he had May by his side. He’d missed her.


	10. "Loss" [Philinda & Clint]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "May finds out about Coulson's death."

Everything had changed. In the space of a few days the entire world had gone from being unaware of SHIELD, unaware of things that lurked in the shadows, to face paints and lunch boxes. It would only get worse. With their agency and their mission out in the world, it would only grow more difficult for those working in the field. 

Not for the first time, Melinda May was glad she was in administration. 

Things were still difficult here. A ton of journalists had filed ‘Freedom of Information Acts’; personal files had to be updated for the injured and deceased SHIELD agents that had perished in New York. She hadn’t made it to those yet. She was too busy keeping the vultures from the door. 

The door to the office opened. May expected it to be someone looking for a favour, or someone wanting to check a file. She’d had several requests from other SHIELD agents wanting to know whether it had been one of their friends who had perished in New York. But when Melinda looked up from the sixth request from Fox News, she saw it was none other than Clint Barton. 

“You look like hell." 

"Been a long couple of days.”

Her old friend shifted on the balls of his feet. Something was wrong. Was it Natasha? She’d seen video of them both in New York. “Spit it out, Clint. I haven’t got all day." 

"I wanted to see you first, before you saw it one of the files. You’re aware of what happened in New York, with the Chitauri and Loki." 

May nodded. She’d been informed. She was Level 7 after all. "Who, Clint?" 

"Coulson." 

Everything stopped. Clint, the air conditioning, her breathing. The world stopped and for that moment Melinda didn’t give a damn if it ever started again.  _Phil?_ Natasha was to be expected; she was a specialist who pulled new levels of crazy on a regular basis. But Phil Coulson was careful. Phil Coulson kept himself safe.  _Phil Coulson was gone._

_"How?_ ” she spat, her hands clenching the wood of her desk. 

“Loki,” Clint hissed. She’d read the report. She knew what had happened to him. But she hadn’t read about Coulson. “Stabbed him with a sceptre just before the Battle of New York." 

She sucked in a breath. She didn’t care if Loki was an Asgardian or a God or whatever he was…she would tear that  bastard limb from limb. ” _Where is he_?“ 

Clint pressed a hand to hers, but she jerked it away. She didn’t need his comfort. She needed her hands around Loki’s throat. Phil Coulson was a good man, the best of men. He didn’t deserve to face his end like that. "Where is he, Clint?" 

"Thor took him back to Asgard. I would have happily killed that son of a bitch myself, Melinda. _You have no idea_.” Clint crossed his arms, relaxing his form. “Hill didn’t want me to tell you, said it was being kept under wraps. But you and Phil…I couldn’t not tell you, Melinda. I’ll give you some space.”

She was thankful for that. Clint left the room quickly, the door clicking shut behind him. The papers were the first to go - requests for information, files to be updated - they all were pushed to the floor in a cascade of paper. The desk went over next, the wood making a loud  _thump_ as it hit the carpet. She didn’t care what she destroyed, how much damage she did. The person who should have felt this rage was too many realms away. 

A good thing. She would have killed Loki with her bare hands. 

A scream was ripped from her as she kept destroying everything in sight. Eventually she dropped to the floor, air barely making it inside her lungs. She was calm, controlled. The last time she had let such emotion overcome her, Phil had been there to help her pick up the pieces. He had held her and kissed her and tried to restore her soul.

But he was gone. All she was left with were memories of a good man, a strong man. The only man she ever loved and the only man she ever trusted. Gone in a single moment.

She’d had an ache in her heart ever since Bahrain. Phil had helped ease it. Now it felt like there was nothing in there at all.  


	11. "Memory" [Philinda]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> badassblackwidowcavalry prompted: "After an accident, Melinda looses her memory (or Phil) :)"

He’d been in that hospital room forever. 

At least, that’s what it felt like. Simmons kept telling him to get some rest, Skye to eat. Trip had brought him food and squeezed his shoulder. He’d been there. He knew how hard it was to face a partner lying in a hospital bed. There was nothing to distract himself with either. They found the man who did this, now dead at his own hand. Reports had been filed, bus refuelled. 

All that was left now was for Melinda to wake up. 

“Please, Melinda. Please wake up." 

Maria came through the Playground, spent some time in a cold plastic chair beside him. But eventually she left the room too. Someone needed to run SHIELD. But not him, not right now. Not when Melinda was lying too small and too pale in a hospital bed. He was used to her injured, used to her poor stitches and bruised body. But this was something else. _Someone else._

His eyes had drifted close, his hand clutching hers, when he first felt the flex of her fingers. It was the sign he had been waiting for and he immediately shouted for Simmons. May was a fighter, there was no doubt about that. And his girl had fought like he knew she would. 

"Is she going to be okay? I mean, she’s waking up…that’s a good sign isn’t it?" 

Simmons stared at the machines, made a few notes. “It’s too early to tell. We’ll know more once she’s awake.” 

He remained by her side as the machines started coming to life, as Melinda started coming to life. He had never been the Prince Charming type, but he’d happily play that role if Melinda was his beauty that woke and stayed woken. Her eyes flickered then stayed. He’d forgotten how beautiful her eyes were. 

"It’s good to have you back,” Simmons said, checking Melinda’s vitals. He took a step back to give her some space. He could make his speech later. “Do you know where you are?" 

Melinda shook her head. “No. Last thing I remember…suspect got a hold of me. Then darkness.” She paused, licking her lips. “Phil, is Phil okay?” 

She was usually so good at keeping things proper between them, but after this he couldn’t bear another moment of being called Agent Coulson. He was her Phil and he wanted it to stay that way. “Melinda, I’m here.” 

Her eyes narrowed, focusing on his face like she didn’t even recognise him. “Phil? I don’t…how long have I been here?” 

Something stabbed at him, a thought too terrifying to conceptualise. So he took a step forward but kept his hands to himself. The urge to pull her close was fading. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

"Warehouse. Gifted individual. Jonathan Albon." 

"Sir?" 

Simmons wanted to know what was wrong. He was sure Melinda wanted an answer to her question too. But he could barely breathe. Albon had been the first Op he and May had ever ran together. They’d run plenty together afterwards, despite them both ending up in hospital. But May had no memory of that. No memory of Bahrain, perhaps a good thing. But no memory of Rio, or that weekend in London, or the countless stops for doughnuts and coffee on their trips to small towns…a million memories of the two of them were gone. Just like that. 

"You’ve been in here six days. Six days ago you were injured in the field.” Phil paused, swallowing to get the words out. “But it’s been a long time since Albon. _A long time_.” 

He let Simmons do her work, repair May’s body. It would take some time to repair her mind, if that was even possible. For the first time in six days he went to his own bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, but the rest would help. She’d woke up, he’d got his wish. He should be grateful for that. But a part of him had hoped that things, for once, would be smooth sailing. 

He should have known better. 


	12. "Drinking Alone" [Philinda - Alley Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aryalis prompted: "smut, with Phil after a long long day of paper work and May after a long mission far of him!"
> 
> This is NSFW.

He’d spent the day going through applications to SHIELD. Some of them had been interesting, a handful of those had shifted from his hands to Skye’s for vetting. More than a few had been completely wrong for the agency. Skye had weeded out two cos players and three suspected elements of Hydra. Did they really think they were going to fall for the same thing again? 

After working his way through his paperwork, he’d taken Lola out to the local town and found the bar that he and his team had started to frequent. It carried a good range of labels, and after his eyes had started to go blurry he needed something stronger. 

“Rough day?” the bartender asked. Young, blonde. Cute smile. “I can pour you a double if you wanted." 

Phil shook his head. "Just a single, thank you. But don’t go far, it’s been a really exhausting day." 

The bartender gave him another smile and even a wink before she shifted down the other end of the bar. They’d had to assume new identities when they went into town. He was a divorced real estate developer eyeing up the town for new business opportunities. The identity came with glasses and an open necked shirt, a look that worked well on women. Well, woman. 

And said woman was a million miles from here. 

"Drinking alone?" 

The voice caught his attention and he turned, his eyes immediately roaming over the brunette taking up the barstool beside him. Her dress clung to her, revealing her shoulders and long legs. The male bartender attended to her, furnishing her with her own glass of scotch. She took a sip and smiled. 

"It’s never fun drinking alone." 

"Well my usual drinking partner is elsewhere." 

Another smile, just before the brunette placed her hand on his thigh. "Maybe I could replace her." 

"I don’t know…” He grinned, feeling his stomach flutter. “She’s one hell of a woman." 

"Give me a chance to change your mind?" 

Phil threw down a few notes before offering his hand to the brunette. She took it eagerly, but instead of following him out the front door she dragged him through the bar and out the back. As soon as the door was closed, Melinda May had him pressed up against the nearest wall, her hands cupping his face. 

"I didn’t expect you back for another week,” Phil whispered, his own hands reaching around her waist to pull her closer. 

“Things wrapped up earlier than expected.” Melinda leaned in close, her lips barely grazing his. “I needed to see you. You’ve been…”

“…on your mind?” He nodded. “I know the feeling. But then I’ve never been good at getting you off my mind." 

They closed the distance between them, lips pressed hungrily against each other. She’d been gone for twelve days. He’d survived longer periods without Melinda May, but now they were together he couldn’t bear much time apart from her. She consumed his thoughts, consumed his heart. He’d stopped fighting it a long time ago.

Phil turned them around, pressing Melinda’s back against the wall. She let out a long sigh as she felt the brickwork rub against her skin. The dress would be ruined, but Phil didn’t care. He wanted her out of it. 

"So…beautiful…” Phil whispered, punctuating each word with a nip to her throat. Melinda’s hands gripped his hair, tugging at the short strands. “I’ve missed you.”

Her grip relaxed on his hair as one hand reached between them to fiddle with the fly of his pants. They spun again, his jacket grating against the ageing brick. It wouldn’t be the first time they came back to the Playground covered in bruises and dust. Or grass stains. Or sand. 

Melinda yanked down his zipper and his pants, before tugging his Captain America boxer shorts to his ankles. They were still in an alleyway, still behind a crowded bar. But Phil didn’t care. He’d missed her. He needed her. 

Phil felt something be shoved into his jacket pockets. A quick peek before Melinda overtook his mouth again revealed it to be her underwear. Two pairs of hands helped lift her dress, and it didn’t take long for Melinda to throw her arms around him and straddle his waist. Her back hit the wall with a grunt as he thrust inside of her. 

Teeth bit down on his ear lobe, on his neck, shoulder, throat as Phil found a gruelling pace. They could reacquaint themselves with each other back at the Playground, all night long if needed. But they both needed this, and they both needed this now.

“Melinda….oh Melinda!” She kissed him as he came, desperate to drown out the noise no doubt. She rocked herself against him and soon she was joining him in the waves of ecstasy washing over him. Nothing got through, nothing but the sound of Melinda’s breathing by his ear, or the feel of him still inside her. Everything was her, and everything was perfect. 

The door to the bar opened, and they stilled. They couldn’t risk a police officer being called. Their IDs weren’t strong enough to be run through the system. Thankfully the drunk didn’t even notice them. It gave them the time they needed to pull up or down their clothes and present themselves with  _some_ decency. 

“Shall we head home?" 

Melinda nodded, the back of her hand bumping against his. "Sounds perfect. After all, we have a lot of catching up to do." 

"You do need to be debriefed." 

"As do you,  _Director._ " 

Well he wasn’t going to say no to that. He’d said it before, he would say it again. He was so glad she was back. 


	13. "Sickly Sweet" [Philinda - Academy Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aryalis prompted smut.

Phil Coulson woke up, his head aching and his body groaning. He had dim recollections of the night before. Melinda had just come back from a training exercise at another base, and he had taken her out with Natasha and Maria for a few drinks. The last thing he remembered was Melinda’s hand on his thigh, her lips brushing against his ear. God, he wondered what had happened. 

He wasn’t wearing any clothes, he knew that much. He let out another groan, cursing himself for being so stupid. He’d been half in love with Melinda May ever since orientation at the academy, but he knew she didn’t feel the same. She was Melinda May, Academy legend already. He’d tried to keep his feelings to himself, placating himself with the dream that if he ever did make a move, it would be perfect. A drunken one night stand was not what he’d had in mind. 

“God dammit." 

Raising a hand to his face, Phil sighed. As he pulled it away, he felt something sticky on his skin. Finally opening his eyes, Phil realised something was coating his fingers and now his face.  _Syrup._ Sitting up in bed, Phil realised that his entire bed was soaked in the stuff. He was naked, sure, but there was no Melinda next to him. He breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t ruined his relationship with his best friend. He had been the victim of a vicious prank, however. 

Throwing off the damp sheets, Phil tried to sluice some of syrup off his body. It was no good. The only thing that would clear this off would be a long  _hot_ shower. Stepping on the other side of his bed, Phil slammed his feet down into a bucket of whipped cream. He was a sundae. 

Only two people in the Academy would pull pranks to this level. One was currently in Maine, doing some one on one training. The other had come back last night. “MELINDA!”

A soft giggle erupted from behind his dorm door. Phil had the good decency to put on a pair of boxer shorts [not the Captain America ones, he didn’t want them to get ruined] before he flung open the door and grabbed Melinda just before she had time to flee. 

"Phil, get your hands off me, you’re all sticky!" 

He wrestled with Melinda, tried to drag her into his room away from prying eyes. She squirmed in his arms, but he knew that if she wanted him off, he’d  _be_ off. He managed to dump her in his syrup coated bed before he let her go. 

"This is not funny, Melinda." 

She ducked her head, a childish smirk playing on her lips. “I thought it was. As did Maria and Natasha when we dunked the cafeteria’s supply of maple syrup on your bed.” 

"The whipped cream?" 

"Clint’s idea. We called him." 

Phil ran a hand over his face, groaning at just how sticky that made everything. He wanted to be mad at her. Wanted to be  _furious_ and he certainly didn’t want to have to drag his sticky self down to the communal showers. He wanted to be a lot of things. But when he looked at Melinda sitting cross legged on his bed, beaming at him, he realised he was only one.

He was in love. 

"You’re insane, you know that? Completely and utterly crazy,” he muttered. He tried to tell her off, but the words got lost in translation as Melinda slipped off the bed and stood right in front of him. His babbling droned off as she dragged a finger from his collarbone all the way down to his stomach, coating it in thick maple syrup. Then she slid her finger in between her lips, sucking the sugar from her skin. “ _Melinda…_ ”

"I missed you, Phil.” She paused for a moment before she closed the gap between them, her arms closing around his sticky form. “I really missed you." 

This couldn’t be happening. He was dreaming. He was dreaming such sickly sweet dreams. Melinda didn’t look at him that way. She never had. “I missed you too.”

Another pause, another sharp intake of breath. Before she opened her mouth to speak again, he kissed her. It was stupid and reckless but she was standing in his dorm room wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt and panties, pressing herself against his body like they hadn’t seen each other for months.  _She was pressing herself against his body. She was kissing him back._

Melinda’s teeth nipped at his bottom lip before her mouth turned towards his neck. His grip on her hips tightened as she licked and sucked at his skin, slowly removing all the syrup she had dunked on him. “You taste sweet. Slightly regretting the prank now.” Her teeth nipped at his earlobe. “Would have preferred to taste you without all that sugar.” 

Phil’s lips pressed hurriedly against hers, desperate for another kiss. She kissed him back, cradling his face as they moved backwards towards the bed. Not their best idea. Melinda took him by the hips and guided him towards his desk. His papers and books were knocked to the floor, as Melinda settled herself on the edge of the desk. 

They shared another kiss, Melinda’s hands keeping to his face and arms. His hands, however, had the freedom to journey all over. They tangled in her hair, caressed the length of her spine. She was so beautiful, so warm under his fingers. His hands slid under her tank top, pressing against the soft skin of her back. 

"Are you sure?” Melinda asked him, panting as she pulled him closer. 

His brain hadn’t thought. His brain didn’t think much of anything when it came to Melinda May. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t romantic. But they were two SHIELD agents breaking the rules in the worst way. It was always going to be imperfect. 

“I want you. I’ve never been surer of anything else in my entire life." 

Grinning, they both got to work on their respective underwear. His boxers joined the pile of sugary clothes, Melinda’s panties ended up somewhere else. He was too busy rootling around in the desk drawer beside her, trying to find the box of condoms Clint had given him as a gag gift. Thank god the syrup had been restricted to his chest otherwise they’d have had to put this on hold for a shower. 

It was awkward. First times always were. It was even harder to concentrate when Melinda was staring at him like she loved him, unable to keep her eyes from his face. He stole a kiss as soon as he slipped the condom on his cock, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her to him. She was beautiful. 

Phil slid inside her. She was wet and  _hot,_ and Melinda had to cover his mouth with her hand to stop him yelling. She crossed her legs around his waist, tightening their embrace. His hands kept to her hips, taking his time to thrust in and out of her. One of her arms was thrown around his neck, anchoring their bodies together. The other moved just where their bodies joined, Melinda pushing herself over the edge. When he’d get the damn syrup off his body he intended to spend  _hours_ learning how to do that himself. 

"God, Melinda." 

"Harder, Phil… _please_ ” she breathed, gasping his name. He’d never seen her lose control like this. She was glorious to watch, and just seeing her be thrown off the edge made him reach his own breaking point. He buried his face in the curve of her neck to stop himself from screaming her name for the entire agency to hear. His own name was whispered again and again for just his ears alone. 

When they had both calmed down, Phil offered Melinda his hands to help her off the desk. They were both sticky now, in need of a good shower. They’d talk later, of course. But shower first. 

“Fancy helping me clean up?” Phil asked, swallowing harshly just in case she said no. Just because they had  _amazing_ sex one time didn’t mean it was gonna be a regular thing. 

But Melinda was still smiling at him like she wanted him, and she still kissed him like she wanted him. “I’ll get the soap.” 

He was in love. And if he didn’t know any better, he would say she was too. 


	14. "Healed" [Philinda - 207 Tag]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guardiansofshield prompted: "Make 'em kiss: Melinda patches Phil's injuries up rather than the other way around"
> 
> This is set post 2.07.

“Thanks for doing this.”

Melinda didn’t utter a word as she bustled around their small infirmary. Phil just sat, hands clasped in his lap as he watched her blur around the small room and find exactly what she needed. Simmons, quite rightly, had let Melinda patch up his wounds after his altercation with Derrick. She hadn’t said a word since she’d entered, instead completely focussed on her task. 

“I know you’re mad,” he said, breeching the silence once more. “But this is what we’ve been hoping for, isn’t it? A way to stop what’s happening to me? Find the answer?”

No response. Melinda just reached for his forearm, unwrapping the bandage Skye had hastily pulled around his wounds on the drive home. She extended his arm, dabbed it clean before rubbing the healing cream into the wound. 

“I didn’t do this deliberately because you were off hunting Ward. If you’d been on base, I would have made the same call.”

She finally paused, glaring at him. Her hand reached for his other forearm, yanking it over so she could clean that one too. Her fingers dug into his wrist, and he supposed he deserved that. Eventually both his arm wounds were cleaned and on their way to healing. All that was left was his chest wound. Another one to add to the collection. 

“I’m sorry. You’ve been with me in this since the beginning. I should have included you in the end too.”

Phil expected that to finally open Melinda’s mouth, but not in this way. Her hands cupped his face, bringing her lips crashing down on his. They were warm; firm against his own. The kiss didn’t last for more than a few seconds before Melinda pulled away and was immediately back to sorting out the rest of the medical supplies.

“What was that for?” Phil asked, feeling a little light headed. He leant back against the table, trying desperately to hold onto the memory of Melinda’s lips against his own. “Melinda…”

“Because you were an idiot,” Melinda said finally, reaching for him to remove his t-shirt. Her eyes flickered up to his and held his gaze. “And because you’re getting better." 

Phil smiled, taking Melinda’s hands in his. “I was an idiot. A  _big_ idiot. But I am better.” He pulled her closer, hoping this was heading where he thought it was. “Guess you won’t have to shoot me in the head any more.”

"That’s still up for debate,” Melinda whispered, her lips leaning into his. 

“Can I change your mind?" 

This time, Phil kissed her. 


	15. "Dress Shirt and Tie" [Philinda - Fake Relationship AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suallenparker prompted: "Make 'em kiss after Melinda adjusts his tie?"

Phil paced around the small hotel room, his hands unable to stop shaking. He didn’t know why this was such a problem for him. He’d tackled drug cartels, mercenaries. Gone undercover in some pretty volatile conditions. Yet this he couldn’t quite take. He sat down on the end of his bed for a moment before immediately standing back up. Pacing would help. Or maybe it wouldn’t. 

The door to the adjacent bathroom opened and Melinda came out. She looked… _beautiful._ Usually when they went out to dinner her hair was up, her clothes fashionable yet practical. The dress and shoes she wore now were completely unlike her, with a flower pattern and a little heel. Her hair was down, long and cascading over her shoulders. She looked beautiful. 

”You…”

“Don’t start,” Melinda said, tossing him his tie from her side of the hotel room. “This is what my mother expects me to wear when she sees me. Are you nearly ready?”

Phil nodded, his hands still shaking as he reached for his tie. It was the same colour as the flowers in her dress. “I’m just a little nervous. What if your mother doesn’t like me?”

Melinda threw a look over her shoulder before starting to apply her make up. “You’re not actually my boyfriend, remember?”

“I remember.” How could he forget? The hotel room had two beds, they’d spent all day going over their aliases for dinner with her mother and grandmother. Phil was trying very hard not to fall into the fantasy that Melinda was his girl. “I still want her to like me.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Melinda, he could see, was not. Usually his best friend was calm, controlled whether it be under heavy gunfire or when they ordered breakfast at a busy diner. But her hands were busy, constantly running through her hair or straightening her dress. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who wanted Melinda’s mother to like him. 

“Could you help me with the tie?” he asked, hoping the distraction would help them both.

She nodded, crossing over the room to loop the fabric around his neck. Her fingers were nimble, controlled as they tied an elegant knot. She straightened it, making sure he looked perfect. “There. Prince Charming.” 

“Thank you. You look beautiful, Melinda.” She bowed her head, unable to look at him while he complimented her. So he had to take his hand to lift her chin so he knew she heard him. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

There was a moment where they just stared, both of them knowing what was about to happen. Then Melinda closed her eyes, her head tilting up. Phil covered her lips with his, sighing at the sensation. He’d been lost in thoughts of kissing her since she’d proposed this evening, and now he finally had his chance. Phil parted her mouth, leaving a delicate kiss on her top lip before following suit with the bottom. She had amazing lips. It was such a damn shame he had to pull away.

“We should go down, your mother will be waiting." 

Melinda grinned, her eyes shinning. Phil expected her to turn on her heel for the door, but instead her fingers grabbed the end of his tie and yanked him forward. “She can wait.”


	16. "Gala" [Philinda]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suallenparker prompted: "Make 'em kiss at a gala hosted by Tony Stark"

It was expected, Skye had said as she grinned wickedly at him. The Director of the newly improved SHIELD  _should_ have a date on his arm, especially at a gala hosted by one of the Avengers. It would be his first official occasion as the new Director and he really should look the part. 

Simmons had made a few subtle comments about taking a trip down to Portland, maybe repair a few of the bridges that had burnt after his resurrection had come to light. Skye had done everything in her power to suggest another candidate, even going so far as to root through the dresses they had in storage to find one in Melinda’s size. The young field agent needn’t have campaigned so hard. There was no one else he would rather take. 

”I really like that dress,” Phil said as they came in through the back way, his hand happily resting on the small of her back. “You look lovely.” 

Melinda, however, was scowling. “My feet hurt. If I have to chase someone in these I’m throwing them at them first.”

Phil took a sharp breath as he navigated them through the party goers. He knew Melinda hated events like these, although he didn’t mind them. Cocktail shrimp, champagne,  _dancing._ He could even make small talk if the event called for it. “I don’t think you’ll have to chase anyone down, Melinda.” 

She bristled beside him, the use of her first name catching her off guard. “You’re the Director, Phil. I’m in charge of your safety.” 

“No, you’re not. Triplett’s around here somewhere, as is Bobbi. You’re here as my..date.”

Phil had wanted Melinda to avoid his gaze, nibble the corner of her mouth. Any of those cute little things she did when his words caught her off guard in a good way. Instead, she just glared at him like he’d insulted her. “I’m  _arm candy_?”

Turns out, he had. 

Melinda stuck by his side for most of the evening, quiet and solemn, her eyes taking in every aspect of security that their own or even Stark’s might have overlooked. Phil met some old friends, talked to the few politicians he knew were sympathetic to SHIELD and avoided those that weren’t. He spent an entire fifteen minutes looking across the ballroom to where Steve Rogers stood. 

“Melinda, I think I’m going in.” Phil turned to the left, surprised to find that Melinda was no longer there. “Melinda?”

Looking across the room, he found her in the corner by the bar. She had a glass of whiskey in one hand, a collection of men and women hanging on her every word. He recognised Maria chipping in every now and then, a few of Stark’s staff and some old SHIELD agents gathered around. And  _Thor,_ of all people. He was particularly enchanted by Melinda. Why wouldn’t he be? 

She caught him staring and made her excuses, leaving the gathered group to join him over by the coconut shrimp. “You talked to Rogers yet?”

“Building up to it. Enjoying yourself?”

Melinda made a big show of looking over at Thor. “You could say that. You know, you could have told me this was a date.”

“I asked you. I said, ‘May, would you like to come to the gala with me?’. I thought I was pretty clear.” Phil shrugged. “I was surprised when you said yes.”

Melinda slid her arms around his neck, his own going around her waist. She started to sway, and he followed suit. One hand stayed at the back of his neck, the other descended to rest over his heart. 

“Be clearer, next time. Not to a work function. Dinner, or a movie." 

"Dinner or a movie?” Phil grinned, not quite believing he was hearing this. That was so…normal of them. “Melinda, would you like to go to a movie one evening with me? Not in the Playground, not on the Bus. In a theatre. I’ll even buy you popcorn.”

“ _Yes_.”

They continued to sway, moving closer before their lips gently met. It was a sweet kiss, soft and delicate. Phil was sure that the tension between them would explode when they were alone: lips would be frenzied, hot as they released thirty years of pent up feelings. This was nothing more than a confirmation that things were going to change. 

As Melinda’s lips pulled away, Phil continued to hold her close. He wasn’t going to lose her, not again. He pressed a single kiss to her hand before they continued their dance. A new one was just about to begin.


	17. "Flying Lessons" [Philinda]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crazymaryt prompted: "Melinda seduces Phil in the cockpit of the bus."

“So…this is flying, huh?”

Phil had been surprised when Melinda had offered to give him flying lessons. When he’d asked before, she’d rolled her eyes and often mentioned the time he’d accidentally crashed into a fire hydrant whilst he had been distracted by a pawn shop across the street. But earlier that afternoon she’d walked into his office and told him they were taking the Quinjet out. He could see why Melinda enjoyed flying so much. It was peaceful. 

“Think I’ll be able to fly the Bus when we get back?”

Melinda looked over from the main pilot’s seat, rolling her eyes for a moment before she adjusted some of the controls. “One day. At least you won’t hit any hydrants in the sky.”

“I’m sorry, am I getting sassed by the agent who tried to do an Evil Kinevel over our base commander’s car?”

“Made the jump, didn’t I?” Melinda switched on another switch before she got out of her seat. Phil instantly stiffened, hoping that she’d put on the auto-pilot or this was all secretly a dream. He  _really_ didn’t want to be the only one flying this thing. “Phil, relax. We have a set course, you just need to keep going straight.”

Phil nodded, smiling as he felt Melinda’s hand reach across his arm to guide his hand to the controls. “I’m doing okay, right?” He looked up, his eyes meeting Melinda’s cleavage instead of her face. Ever since SHIELD had fallen, Melinda’s attire had been more relaxed. He’d noticed, how could he not? There was a shirt she wore, with buttons that Phil dreamt about unbuttoning to be able to lick and nip at her bare breasts…

“Eyes on the sky, Phil.”

“Huh?” His eyes suddenly turned back to the view out front, finding nothing but blue sky. “Flying, yeah. What does that control do?”

“Turns on the auto pilot.”

Melinda’s nimble fingers flicked the switch, a whole array of lights suddenly brightening the dashboard. His view of the sky was then blocked as Melinda straddled his body, her legs gripping his thighs as her fingers held his shoulders tight. 

“You know, in all the flights I’ve done, I’ve yet to join the mile high club.” Melinda wetted her mouth with the tip of her tongue, her body moving forward to press harder against his own. “Are you enjoying your first flying lesson, Phil?”

“I think it could be better.”


	18. "Hotel Room" [Philinda - Handcuffs]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suallenparker prompted: "Phil and Melinda play with handcuffs"
> 
> This is so very NSFW!

Melinda burst in through the door to the hotel room, her side arm raised as she surveyed the scene in front of her. The place was trashed: pillows slashed, drawers upturned. Her gaze turned towards the bed where she found what she was looking for. 

“Director!" 

Dropping her gun to her waist, Melinda kicked the door shut and ran across the room. Director Coulson was handcuffed to the antique metal bed frame, the metal cuffs scraping at his wrists. He looked like hell: his dress shirt had been yanked open and his hair was mused. Melinda immediately crawled onto the bed, her fingers digging into her jacket for something to pick the locks.

"Agent May, I’d knew you’d come." 

"Of course.” She breathed in shakily, so glad she’d found him when she did. “The next time we go out, you’re having a proper security detail." 

Melinda freed his right hand, throwing the cuffs off the other side of the bed. Before she could attend to the other, Phil hooked his legs around her own and spun her back onto the mused bed sheets. 

"This wasn’t what we discussed." 

Phil leant down, his lips brushing against the open skin of her throat. "I know, but you look so sexy in your old SHIELD uniform and I can’t wait any longer.” His nose brushed the curve of her neck. “I’ve been sitting here with a hard on for half an hour thinking about you. Do you know what its like having a hard on with your hands cuffed?" 

Melinda rolled her eyes, pushing herself up to meet Phil in a searing kiss. His newly freed hand buried itself in her hair, tugging at the strands to bring her closer. It was full of tongue and teeth; the wait to set this fantasy up had been intense. Waiting in the stairwell, thinking about Phil handcuffed to the bed, had almost been too much to bear. 

"I’m here now,” Melinda whispered, lips kissing the marks the handcuffs had made around his skin. “I’ll always be here.”  

“I know.” Phil nuzzled her neck. “I knew you’d be the one to rescue me." 

Slipping back into fantasy, Melinda tenderly reached for the other set of handcuffs. She could feel Phil’s breath on the back of her neck as the lock finally clicked undone. The handcuffs clanged against the bed, Phil’s free hand suddenly moving to the buttons of her jacket. 

"Phil, we should go. Before they come back." 

He grinned, his mouth returning to her neck as he begun to undress her. "Then we’ll have to be quick." 

They were never quick, although they’d both been so desperate to start this fantasy that they were pretty keyed up already. Her old SHIELD jacket was pulled off, tossed aside with the other set of handcuffs. Phil’s hands then slid under her shirt, the pads of his fingers delicately tracing along her ribs. Her own grasped the antique bed, clinging desperately to the metal to anchor herself against Phil’s ministrations. 

"You’re so sexy,” Phil whispered, his tongue pressing against the spot behind her ear that drove her  _crazy._ “I can barely function when you’re in the room." 

"Tell me about it." 

Melinda turned, palms pressing against Phil’s bare chest to slide him to the sheets. His shirt was open, hastily torn apart by his own hand. Her hands stroked his chest, massaging his skin as she climbed on top of him. Her eyes flicked over to the door: this was all a fantasy but they still  had to be careful. She had the Director of one of the most wanted agencies in the world between her legs and his safety was no joke. 

But she needed to stop thinking so much, especially when Phil’s cock was tenting the front of his suit pants. Melinda massaged him through the fabric, feeling how hot he was through the material. She slowly undid the zipper, coaxing Phil out of his boxers into the cool air of the air conditioned room. He was hard and thick in her grip, pre-come clinging to her fingers as she teased the head of his cock. 

"Dammit Melinda,” he groaned, his head thrown back against the mattress. Phil looked like he was ready to burst. “I need to be inside you,  _god_ I need you." 

Grinning, Melinda addressed her own pants. As she pulled away from Phil, she slipped them off to join her jacket. She straddled Phil again, the expensive lace of her panties rubbing against the underside of his cock. She joined their hands, careful not to press down too hard on his sore wrists. 

"Any orders,  _Director?_ " 

Melinda loved the look in his eye when she called him that. That desperate,  _hungry_ look that often left her with a pair of ripped panties and a hickey on her neck. Phil broke their hands’ embrace and gripped her ass, pushing her down further onto his cock. 

"I do, Agent May. I need you to take off those panties and ride me as hard as you can." 

She didn’t need to be told twice. Melinda removed the red lace, throwing them on Phil’s face. He grinned, fingers digging into her ass as he finally slid inside her. She was soaking wet, having spent most of her time in that stairwell rubbing her legs together. She held Phil’s shoulders, leaning over him as she started riding his cock. He felt  _amazing,_ stretching her with her every move. 

"This time was supposed to be tender,” Melinda groaned, twisting her hips as she continued to fuck Phil. “This time was supposed to be soft and…romantic." 

"Next time.” Phil nuzzled her breasts through her shirt as she leant over him, his teeth grazing a nipple. “I just love you like this. So sexy. So…” He groaned, eyes screwed shut as she twisted her hips again. “So amazing. I love you." 

Melinda slowed for a moment, fingers digging into his shoulders before she sped up her punishing rhythm. It was always strange to hear him say those words. "I love you back." 

Phil’s grin was electric, his eyes looking up at her with awe and love as she continued to fuck him. One hand moved from her ass to her pussy, his fingers rubbing against the side of her clit. Melinda bit down hard on her lip, the copper taste of blood on her tongue as she came. Phil groaned out next as he came inside her, his body tense underneath her own. 

When she was sated, Melinda rolled off Phil and collapsed to the sheets beside him. His hand was loose on her waist, the cuff of his shirt and her own clothing too much for her to bear. She pulled her shirt off before burying herself in the sheets. 

"We trashed the hotel room." 

Phil kissed her now bare shoulder. "We’ll fix it.” Another kiss. “I love these recruitment missions. Hotel rooms with you are so much more fun." 

Melinda had to agree. There were certain perks to being the second command of the new SHIELD Director. They could have these moments to enjoy everything they’d put off since they were cadets.

The next fantasy on their list was Phil walking in on her touching herself in the cockpit. They’d have to make sure Skye kept clear of that one. But for now, Melinda was just happy to enjoy a quiet hotel room and Phil’s lips on her neck. It was almost a fantasy itself. 


	19. "Bad Weather" [Philinda - Airport AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "Stuck in an airport"

Phil Coulson was usually a patient man. But when his flight had been delayed for the  _third_ time that evening, his patience was starting to thin. He was only travelling from D.C. to Portland, it shouldn’t be that much of a hassle. Yet the weather had gone from a light shower as he’d stepped out of the cab to something quite nasty. If he was a betting man, he’d put money on his flight being cancelled completely. 

Grabbing his duffel bag and throwing it over his shoulder, Phil decided to leave the departure area and find a bar. At least he could get a drink, maybe a bite to eat before he went back to wait again. 

Slumping into one of the stools at the bar, he asked for a glass of water with a twist of lemon. Phil smiled at the bartender as he handed him the glass. Taking a sip, he looked around the bar and found another weary traveller two stools down. Around his age, brown hair tied back in a ponytail with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. 

“Stupid weather,” Phil said, taking another sip of his water as he tried to make conversation. The last few hours in the airport had been so tiresome, he wanted something to keep his mind off his wait to Portland. “I suppose it could be worse. I wouldn’t want to fly in this." 

The woman smiled at his comment before turning to look at him across the bar. "It’s not so bad. I’ve flown in worse." 

Picking up his glass of water, Phil moved another stool down so he wouldn’t have to pick up his voice to be heard. "What’s the worst weather you’ve ever flown in?" 

"Private plane, heading out of Kansas. We caught the tail end of a storm. I don’t know if you’ve ever travelled in a smaller aircraft but they get rocky when it’s calm out. When you’ve got the beginnings of a tornado out there…" 

Phil nodded, gripping his glass a little tighter. Suddenly he was glad that his flight had been delayed. He wasn’t typically a nervous flier, but  _Twister_ had been on cable last night…"Your pilot must have been one hell of a guy." 

"Well I managed to get everyone on the ground in one piece, so I’ll say yes." 

Phil ducked his head, a little sheepish. The woman beside him just smiled, grinning a little at his discomfort. He supposed he imagined pilots as cocky professionals with wings on their shoulders and aviator sunglasses in their pockets, not beautiful women wearing leather jackets and sipping coffee. 

"Are you flying or travelling today?” Phil asked, trying to spark a little more conversation. 

The woman drained the rest of her coffee. “I’m flying. D.C. to Portland, commercial plane.”

“That’s my flight!” Suddenly the prospect of flying in this weather didn’t seem so bad. “Although I take it we’re not taking off any time soon?”

She checked her phone, her forehead furrowing as she looked for something. “So far, not a chance. I give it twenty minutes before Tower cancels your flight so I’d check into a hotel. It’s what I’m doing. Safe travels." 

Phil watched as the woman slid off the bar stool, waving to the bartender as she headed back into the airport. It was nice to have some conversation, even if it was just for a few moments. Sure enough, the call for cancellation came nineteen minutes later. Phil booked himself on the next flight to Portland and went to find himself a bed to crash in. It was a shame his new flight wouldn’t be with her. He would have liked to see how she flew. 


	20. "Leverage" [Philinda - TV Show AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "c'mon, you know you want to write a Leverage AU"

They sat in the back row of the theatre, staring at the man on stage  _murdering_ Macbeth. Even the actors waiting in the wings looked pained at their lead’s performance. That was nothing compared to the audience’s reactions, a couple of whom were giving up entirely and making their way to the exit. 

Trip was squinting down at the stage, trying to work out what was happening. “Is it supposed to be this bad?” 

Skye was fiddling on her phone, concentrating on anything other than the performance. “Are you sure we’re in the right place? This is Portland, I’m sure there are  _plenty_ of other theatres doing Macbeth.” 

Simmons had her hands over her ears. “I think he needs medical assistance.” 

Melinda May just sat in her seat, eyes transfixed on the performance. She allowed herself a genuine smile as she watched him move across the stage in his poorly stitched costume, his voice moving alternately between high and low. “This is not his stage. Come on.”

 

They waited in the alleyway outside the theatre for him to come out. The other three stood beside the car, arguing with themselves about the latest inclusion into their forced team of bandits. Trip had his arms crossed, Skye was still looking at other theatres and Jemma was wrinkling her nose in distaste. Everything faded away as the theatre door banged open and out stepped Phil Coulson. 

The last time Melinda had seen Phil, he’d been raiding a museum in Berlin. It had been a month before the operation, a month before the girl. She approached him, her hands moving in applause. Phil looked up in surprise, his smile widening as he saw who it was. 

“My biggest fan, Melinda May. You’re not here to bring me in, are you Melinda? I’m an honest citizen now." 

"I’m not." 

The last time Melinda had seen Phil, she’d been working for SHIELD Security, providing protection and investigation for their clients and their possessions. Then the operation had happened, the girl had died. Now she was here, standing amongst the company of four criminals she’d clashed with over the years. How times changed. 

"I always knew you’d do well on my side,” Phil grinned. She’d missed that smile. Their chase across continents, stopping him from stealing works of art and historical pieces, had always been a pleasure. Now they’d get to work together again.

“We have a job. You interested?

Phil nodded, bobbing his head eagerly as he joined them by the car. He nodded at the others, no doubt recognising their names as she introduced them. Trip, Army legacy turned hitter for hire, had given Melinda several beatings when they’d crossed paths. Skye had hacked plenty of systems, including SHIELD’s own when she’d dabbled with the Rising Tide. That hadn’t lasted. Skye worked better alone. Simmons was an unknown quantity. The jewels and trinkets she had accumulated over the years…not so much. 

"So, what’s the job?” Phil asked as they all got into the car.

“Ian Quinn tried to kill us." 

"And he didn’t pay us, either,” Jemma piped up from the back seat. They all looked at her. “Well he didn’t!" 

Melinda smiled. “Quinn didn’t pay us, tried to kill us. So now we’re going to steal from him.” 

Phil looked over at her as she pulled the car away from the kerb. “Steal what?”

"Everything." 


	21. "Security" [Philinda - Bodyguard AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "Bodyguard AU"

“My father always told me that with a little hard work great things can be achieved. I know in a world where anything can be had at a click of a button, hard work seems like an out dated concept. But not to me. I’ve been the Vice President of the United States for three years now and I’ve witnessed some amazing things that wouldn’t have happened without a little hard work.”

She’d heard the speech before. The last four nights she’d heard it from his study as he paced across the hardwood floors. She’d heard it on her morning rounds, a few stumbled words spoken between toothpaste and mouthwash. She’d heard it told to his daughter as the ten year old sat, cuddled up with her little dragon. Even though she could probably recite the speech better than him, Melinda May never got tired of hearing Phil Coulson speak. 

Phil was wrapping things up now, the auditorium hooked on every word. He was an unassuming man: soft spoken and seemed to live in his suit. No one was prepared for how persuasive his convictions were, how strongly he fought for what he believed in. That was part of his strength. When they’d met their first year at college, Melinda hadn’t thought him much of anything. But he impressed her, as he always did. 

Applause signalled the end of the speech, and Carter and Triplett escorted him off the stage. He grinned at her as he joined her side, Carter and Triplett fading into the background as she took charge of his security. 

“So, how was it?" 

"I preferred the version you did with Skye,” Melinda said, smirking as they made it through the first set of double doors. Her earpiece buzzed with call outs and security checks, but she tried to focus on Phil beside her. “I really enjoyed the twist in the speech where you announced that Little Dragon would be running for president." 

Phil chuckled, his hand reaching out for the last set of doors automatically. She slid her hand over his, pulling it away from the door handle. “I used to open doors for you all the time. I used to be quite the gentleman.” 

"You used to be a weedy History major in a  _Captain America_ t-shirt. Now you’re the Vice President of the United States.”

"I still wouldn’t mind opening the door for you once in a while.”

Melinda tried to glare in Phil’s direction, but in the end she just smiled at him. He was beaming at her, his eyes soft and bright and aimed solely at her. She’d caught him looking at her like that a lot recently. Melinda still wasn’t sure what it meant. She knew what she hoped, but hope with Phil Coulson had left the building a long time ago. 

“Maybe one day I’ll let you.”  

“I’d like that." 


	22. "Pretty in Pink" [Philinda - Wedding AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dragonacesg7 prompted: "Wedding planning"

She’d had a long,  _hard_ day at work and the only thing that had kept her through it had been the idea of a full tumbler of whiskey and the number of the Mexican take out place two blocks from her apartment. Melinda hadn’t wanted to come home to find her neighbour had taken in a package for her. Clear plastic bags usually meant body disposal. They did not contain pretty pink dresses with frills and ruffs and what looked like a bow. 

Melinda May poured that tumbler of whiskey and dialled the first name on her speed dial. He picked up in the first two rings.  _“Coulson._ " 

"Tell your fiancée that I’m not wearing it." 

She didn’t expect the chuckle of laughter over the other end of the phone, and Melinda took another  _long_ sip of her drink to calm herself. Phil was lucky he was in New York and not in D.C. or he would be wearing the drink. Or the dress. “I’m serious, Phil.” 

_"I know you are, but Audrey is so excited about the dresses. They’ll pick up the shading in the flowers or something. Melinda…”_

“I’m your best man, can’t I wear a tuxedo?” Melinda picked herself up from the kitchen table and circled the dress, poking the frills around the hem with an outstretched finger. “Remember that Op in Barcelona? That tailored suit, the tie…elegant, classy…no ruffles." 

Another chuckle. Melinda could pick out the sounds of a bar. The hotel he was staying at. She’d bet ten bucks he was sitting at the bar with the same drink she was holding, staring at the clock until it was an appropriate time to go to bed. She always did the same when she worked alone. 

"I don’t think that’s going to happen, Melinda.” She could hear him smile over the other end of the phone. “It wouldn’t do well for the best man to outshine the bride in a tuxedo." 

"Come on, Audrey will look perfect in her dress. You’ll get that goofy expression on your face when she comes walking down the aisle. You know, the same look you get every time you see her.”

Melinda fingered the fabric of the dress. Good material,  even if the colour was off. Audrey was the perfect girl, the perfect bride. She’d look beautiful and enchanting and take Phil’s breath away. He’d get that look, the same look he used to wear when he’d stare at _her_. But that was a lifetime ago and she was about to be best man at his wedding. No sense dwelling on the past now. 

“Can I negotiate on lace?" 

"We’ll work something out. Night, Melinda." 

"Night, Phil." 

She put the glass down on the counter, grimacing once more at the dress. It would be a nightmare. But for Phil, she’d do anything. 


	23. "The Girl Next Door" [Philinda - Neighbour AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "New neighbours"

_“Phil, can you take out the trash please?”_

Phil Coulson dimly heard his mother call for him, but at that moment he was too concerned with other matters to do such trivial things like  _chores._ He was supposed to be studying, his American History text books scattered over his desk. But his gaze was torn elsewhere, like it had for the last seven days ever since  _she_ had moved in. 

He didn’t know her name. His mom had talked about the May family moving in next door: a straight laced Chinese woman carrying a lot more dignity and class than their neighbourhood was used to, and her teenage daughter who was quiet and withdrawn. Her bedroom was opposite his, he could see straight through into her window from the one over his desk. He knew she liked music, reading. He’d watched her to do Tai Chi with her mother when he first got up. He knew she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He just wished he knew her name. 

”Philip Coulson!” His bedroom door banged open, and Phil jerked the blinds down so his mother wouldn’t see him spy on his neighbour. He didn’t think she would approve. Not that she looked very approving right now. “Didn’t you hear me call you?” 

“Sorry, no,” he lied, gesturing to the textbooks on the desk behind him. “I was busy studying. School starts in a week, want to get a head start." 

His mother nodded, accepting his lie without question. He always met curfew, he’d never been brought home by the police. His little white lies were always accepted. “Well take a break, take out the trash. And open your blinds, you’ll do your eyes in if you keep studying without any decent light.” 

Phil bobbed his head, making a big gesture of opening the blinds before his mother left his room. When she was gone, Phil looked round to see that so had his neighbour. Cursing, he raced out of his bedroom to take out the trash. Maybe if he did it quickly, he could get back in to watch her a little more. He never watched her change or anything. He wasn’t a creep. He just liked to look at her. 

He stuffed the bag in the garbage can, making sure the lid was on tight before he turned around to head back into the house. As he turned, he didn’t expect to see his new neighbour also carrying the trash out to the kerb. He stood, transfixed as she hoisted the bag into the metal can and dropped the lid with a clang. 

She turned in his direction, offering up a half smile in greeting. His mouth was dry, his lips unable to force any words to come out. She was even more beautiful up close: her hair looked so shiny, the ends curling just a little; her eyes were so… _rich_ and her lips…

"You’re the Coulson kid, right?" 

Phil jerked his head up and down, the muscles in his neck tense as he tried to move. “That’s me. Phil. Phil Coulson.”

"Melinda.” She offered her his hand and Phil took it, shaking it just as eagerly as he had nodded.  _Melinda._ Such a beautiful name. It suited her. 

“I’m Phil.”

“You said that already." 

He swallowed, realising he was coming off as such a  _dope._ She was just an ordinary girl. A stunningly  _beautiful_ girl who read novels in their original translations and kick boxed for an hour every day.  _Come on, Phil. Ask her something, keep her on the kerb. This will be your only shot to impress her._ "So, you just moved here. Was it hard to leave your old school?" 

Melinda shook her head. “Not really. Mom sent me to a private academy. All girls. I’m going to the local high school. I get to make  _new friends_ and have  _new opportunities.”_

"The high school is actually really good, I attend there.” Phil shoved his hands in his pockets to stop them from sweating so much. “So you’ll at least have one friend on your first day.”

It was stupid, a bold move that he wouldn’t have tried with _anybody_ let alone the girl he had a crush on. But the remark had earned himself a smile. She had a beautiful smile. Tentative, like she didn’t do it much. But rewarding. 

Suddenly his mother was calling him back in and he was making excuses to retreat. It didn’t matter, though. He knew her name.  _She’d smiled at him._  

This day was getting better and better. 


	24. "The Karate Kid" [Philinda & Skye - Single Parent AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "teacher/single parent au"

Phil Coulson liked to think that he was a good father. He took Skye to school every morning, picked her up every afternoon. He made sure she had a good breakfast and a story every night before she went to bed. He loved his daughter, loved her more than anything else in the world. But sometimes, sometimes the choices he made were more about him than his little girl. 

Choices often concerning Skye’s karate class. 

One of the other mom’s at Skye’s school had suggested it and, after Skye had worn out his VCR playing  _The Karate Kid,_ he’d taken her to her first class. Tuesday afternoons, four till five pm. He’d pick her up and take her, and every other week he would leave work a little early to bring snacks. And to see the instructor. 

”Melinda is  _so_ cool,” Skye babbled as soon as she saw her father. “She got one of her assistants to hold this glass bottle and she broke it, just with her finger!” Skye swiped the last carton of apple juice whilst he wasn’t looking, spilling some onto the white jacket half tied around her waist. “I bet she could kick a grown man in half!” 

Phil chuckled, tussling his daughter’s hair as he turned to the beautiful instructor standing on the other side of the studio, talking with other parents. He’d only talked to her a handful of times, but became more enchanted every time he talked to her. He was even considering signing Skye up for another class on a Thursday just to see her. Another bad choice of his. 

“Dad, do you think when I’m all grown up I could kick a grown man in half?" 

Phil looked down at his daughter chewing on the end of her straw. “Skye, sweetheart, you can do anything you want to do. But that’s no reason why you should.” 

Melinda finished up with the other parents and started walking across the studio in their direction. Phil let in a few shallow breaths, desperately hoping he wasn’t sweating through the shirt he’d changed into on the journey from the office to the studio. 

"Afternoon, Mister Coulson. It’s good to see you again." 

Phil nodded, balling his arms under his armpits to stop any sweat marks showing. “And you, Ms May. Skye’s loving the class. Aren’t you Skye?” 

Skye nodded, reaching over to tug at Melinda’s hand. “Melinda, could you show Dad that bottle trick you did? I don’t think he believes me.” 

Melinda laughed, reaching down to gently touch Skye’s hair. Normally he disliked people touching his daughter, but there was something so natural with Melinda…he was getting ahead of himself.  _Way_ ahead of himself. But she was so beautiful and so good with Skye…he was just lonely. That was all it was. 

"Maybe another time, Skye. I’ve got another class coming in and I don’t want glass all over the floor." 

Skye did a mock salute. “Roger. Dad, can we go? I finished my juice box.” 

Phil nodded, realising he needed to buy bigger juice cartons for next weeks class. “Sure, come on kiddo. It was lovely to see you, Ms May.”

"It’s Melinda, Mister Coulson." 

Before he could respond with ‘Phil’, Skye was tugging at his hand, his little girl obviously bored with the studio now it was obvious men weren’t going to get kicked in half. He followed obediently, throwing one last smile over his shoulder at Melinda. God she was amazing. As they passed through the foyer, Phil just managed to grab a leaflet for a Tai Chi class. Maybe instead of using Skye as a buffer, he could be a man and take the classes himself. 

That’s if he got up the courage to go. 


	25. "For Sale" [Philinda - Ghost!Phil]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted "Haunted"

“It’s a beautiful house. It still has all it’s original features, including some rather elegant mouldings. As you can see, it’s a wonderful fixer upper. Even the perfect place to start a family." 

The voice of the realtor stirred through the house, shaking cobwebs and chasing shadows. The house had laid dormant for so many years. Every now and then someone would try to sell the house; voices thick like treacle sliding through the cracks in the peeling paint. Sometimes it was couples, the occasional family. No one stayed long. 

Phil softly approached the realtor and the buyer, his footsteps unheard as he came to see who was invading his house. If he had a last name he didn’t recall it; if he had a family, a story to tell it had long since faded away. He was left with his name and a sentiment: this was  _his_ house. 

The realtor was small; pudgy in her ill fitting jacket. She was talking to another woman: slim, with a straight back and tailored clothes. Professional. No sign of a partner, no sign of any children. Phil stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the woman trying to take his home. All he wanted was a glimpse. 

Suddenly the woman turned, her eyes meeting his across the foyer. Automatically, as if he were still alive, Phil ducked around a wall. From this vantage point he could still see the woman clearly, her eyes peering and searching for something no one else could see. If Phil didn’t know any better he would say the new resident had seen him.  _Impossible._

"Are you showing the house to anyone else?” The woman’s mouth thinned as she continued to gaze through the layers of dust that held this house together. “Today, I mean." 

The realtor shook her head, momentary confusion replaced by a fake smile. “No, dear. You’re the only person I’ve had interested in this place for quite some time.” 

The stranger smoothed the walls with a small hand, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a smile. She had a very beautiful smile. Not the tired, hopeful ones he was used to but something else. Something more.

"Why the lack of interest? It’s a beautiful house." 

"I..uh…” The realtor faltered, the words catching in her throat. The woman turned from the walls to her, her gaze unflinching as she stared the woman down. “I’ve only heard the stories third hand, so I’m not sure how true they are. Ghost stories; growing pains from such an old house." 

The woman raised one eyebrow. “Ghost stories? Are you trying to tell me that this place is haunted?”

The last family that had moved in had left within two days. The other two families that had been shown this house had never returned after hearing it was haunted. This woman didn’t even flinch. Phil slipped closer again, trying to get a better look at the stranger. She was pretty. Certainly the prettiest thing that had passed through the front door in decades. Maybe even ever. 

"It’s all silly nonsense: pipes creaking, floorboards squeaking. Nothing to be worried about." 

The woman paused, holding herself before her head twisted again. Phil found himself ducking behind the wall, unsure whether she truly saw him or was just haunted by the thought of being haunted. Either way, he didn’t expect her next words. 

"I’ll take it.”


	26. "Ghost Stories" [Philinda - Ghost!Phil]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "A sequel to ghost!Phil"
> 
> This is a sequel to the previous chapter, "For Sale".

Melinda May had never been a fan of moving, but it had been a necessary evil after her marriage had fallen apart. She’d packed up her things, signed the papers, and stayed with Maria until she could find a place of her own. It had taken some searching, but eventually she’d found a place with some character. Number Fourteen looked like all the old houses she had broken into as a child. Even before she’d viewed it, she knew she had to move in. 

“Excuse me, oh hi there!" 

She turned her head from the moving truck to a petite woman in a light green dress click clacking her way across the pavement. _Neighbours._ She had hoped to avoid being part of the neighbourhood for a while but they’d caught her on her first morning in the joint. She hadn’t even unpacked her books. 

"Hi there, I’m Mary-Ann,” the woman greeted, sticking out her hand. Melinda smiled thinly, but took the offered hand. “So, _you’re_ the woman who bought the old Coulson place.”

"Looks like.” She nodded at a couple of the movers as they helped bring her furniture into the old house. “It’s a beautiful house. Needs a little work, but I like working with my hands." 

Mary-Ann nodded as if she was taking it all in but Melinda wasn’t sure how much was getting through. “Is it just you in this big old house?” 

"Yes.” Her divorce was no ones business but hers. Maybe moving into a neighbourhood hadn’t been the best idea. She should have bought an apartment closer to her studio.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, but…it’s an old house.”

Melinda nodded politely, unsure really where this conversation was heading. Before getting her studio she’d worked in private security and intelligence, had three bullet wound scars littering her body. “I can handle a few ghosts.” 

She tried to move away, head back into the house to continue the move but her new neighbour’s voice called back to her. “So they told y’all about those ghosts then?” 

Melinda paused, her eyes automatically flickering to the windows of the first floor. She saw movement, but she chalked it up to the movers. Just like she’d chalked the movement the day of the viewing up to light and dust. These old houses had character; a charm that reminded Melinda of adventure, of childhood ghost stories told with marshmallows. She had expected there to be such stories over this place, the old Coulson house. Just stories. 

“That poor young man. Before my time,  _obviously,_ but every kid tells the story. Stabbed thirteen times before being hung from the light fixture in the foyer. Kids say they can still see him, looking out those windows if you look too closely. It’s not just him, though. Plenty of other souls trapped in this house. This house is… _evil._ " 

It didn’t feel evil, not to her. Quiet, and dusty. Wanting to be left alone. Just like her. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

Melinda had long stopped telling ghost stories. Even if there were some, it would be nice to share a house with some ghosts that weren’t her own. 


	27. "Nightmares" [Philinda - Ghost!Phil]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nessnessquik prompted: "Ghost Phil is watching Melinda sleep when she starts having a nightmare. He does his best to comfort her."
> 
> This is a sequel to "For Sale" and "Ghost Stories".

He’d kept mostly out the way when the new occupant had moved her belongings in. Usually he was already planning a way to get rid of them, but for now Phil just wanted to watch. She was a curious woman.  _Very curious._

After the neighbour had spoken to her, the woman had helped the movers put her things away. Furniture had been placed in rooms, boxes had been stacked ready to unpack. From behind a door frame, Phil had watched her lay fresh sheets on her bed. Most of her things were straight out of fresh boxes or packets. Brand new.  _Very curious indeed._

She’d ordered pizza and the delivery boy had very reluctantly walked up the path to her door. She’d paid him with a twenty and the kid had run away quickly, fearful that he’d be dragged down to the basement and tortured or something. Phil had never hurt anyone; not that he could recall at any rate. It was just him in this big old house, and he wanted it to stay that way. 

As the hours dwindled, the new resident put the pizza box in the trash and climbed the staircase to bed. There were four bedrooms in this house, two could conceivably be considered  _master_ bedrooms. She had picked his favourite, the one overlooking the garden. Phil averted his eyes whilst she changed, keeping them turned to the wall as she slid out of her clothes. 

The next time Phil looked, the lights were off and she was under pale blue sheets. 

Slipping into the room, Phil crouched beside the bed and watched her. She was very beautiful. Her skin looked so soft, her lips so inviting. He’d been dead for so long he’d forgotten what it was like to recognise beauty. Phil watched the rise and fall of her chest, how her forehead furrowed as she became lost in slumber. There was nothing closer to being dead than sleep. Yet Phil had never felt further away from the living. 

“Who are you?”

It wouldn’t take him long to answer that question. He could rifle through her belongings, check through files and letters to have some idea of just where she had come from. Phil reluctantly rose to do just that when he heard a groan from the bed. He turned to watch her start to thrash under the sheets, her fingers gripping fabric in a painful grasp.  _A nightmare._ He’d long been the cause of them. He’d never wanted one to stop before. 

“Wake up.” Phil hissed, not sure how else to help. “Wake up, Miss." 

Still nothing. He moved closer to the bed, trying again. “You need to wake up!” 

His hand shot out, slipping straight through her body as he tried to wake her. She woke immediately, crying out as her body lurched upright. Her eyes widened as she saw him, her hands immediately reaching under her pillow for something. He heard the tell tale click of a gun. 

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?" 

 _She could see him._ How was this even possible? When he didn’t answer, her free hand went to the lamp beside her bed. Light bathed the room, highlighting her strewn hair and his ghostly features. 

"I’d put that away. It’s not like it could hurt me. And just to be clear, this is  _my_ house.”

The woman looked at him closer, her eyes narrowing as she took what remained of him in. She reached her spare hand out, brushing through his own. She shivered, pulling back to the head of the bed. Phil took it as a good sign when she put the gun back underneath the pillow. 

"I’m having another dream." 

"If that’s easier for you, go ahead. I kinda hope you think this is real, because you’re the first person I’ve talked to in years.” Phil sat on the end of the bed, his hands clasped in his lap. He had the impression he had never been very good at talking to women when he was alive, and now he was dead it was even worse. “You were having a nightmare. I woke you up.”

She nodded, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Thank you.” She paused, peering at him. “I’ve seen you before. When I looked around the house, you were there. Watching me.” 

“I was intrigued. Still am.”

She rubbed her face, shaking her head. “This is just a dream. Ghosts aren’t real. If they were, I would have been haunted long ago.” 

“Maybe you are haunted. You just can’t see them." 

He let out a low sigh of disappointment as the new resident turned away from him. She turned out the light, shadowing the room in darkness. Phil watched as she screwed her eyes tight, no doubt trying to wish him away. After a few moments, he saw a glint in the darkness from her eyes. 

"You’re not real. But if you are…don’t let me dream like that again." 

Phil nodded as her eyes closed shut. He sat back on the end of the bed and watched her fall back to sleep. She would wake up, consider this another dream. It was a shame. For a moment he thought he might not have to be alone. 


	28. "Love Interest" [Philinda - Actors AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "Television/film set AU"

Melinda May stormed through the set of the production building, crew members ducking out of her way as she headed to her destination. Whilst she was usually quiet and easy to work with, her set of skills was too close to the character she played for people not to be a little scared of her. Eventually she reached the office of the executive producer and pushed it open with the heel of her hand, barging straight in. 

Maria Hill, executive producer of  _History of the Dead,_ immediately hung up her phone call. “Is there a problem?” 

“I’m not kissing Phil this season." 

To reiterate her point, Melinda slammed the freshly printed script she had just read down on Maria’s desk. She always enjoyed reading new scripts, especially as they were about to start their third season. But the moment at the end of the first episode was  _not_ going to happen. 

"Melinda, you’re not kissing Phil. _Beth_ is kissing  _Tom,_ after he nearly gets killed by jewel thieves. Again. For the last two seasons your characters have been getting closer. Fans expect a kiss!” 

She slid into the chair in front of Maria’s desk, her hands gripping the arm rest. “Last season ended with Tom ready to declare his love for Sarah. Audrey and Phil, they’ve been working this up for two whole seasons. A love triangle is sloppy writing.” 

Maria glared at her over her desk. They’d known each other for years, way before  _History of the Dead_ had gone into production. Apart from Phil, Maria was the person who knew her best. “I don’t hire sloppy writers. And is this what’s really bugging you? You two have done some of the greatest work I’ve ever seen. You can sell this.” 

"We’ve never played a couple before. We’ve never-"  _kissed before._ "We’ve never played opposite each other romantically.”

“What about that play you two did in New York? I thought one night you had to go on as the female lead?”

Melinda shrugged. “We omitted all the kissing, we didn’t have time to work through it properly.” 

Phil Coulson was a perfectionist when it came to his craft. He liked to know his characters intimately, worked longer hours than anyone Melinda had ever met. They’d met in their college’s drama society, starring in over a dozen small time productions. After graduation, Phil had dabbled with screen writing; Melinda had gone into fight choreography. Over the years they’d worked together every now and then, but it wasn’t until  _History of the Dead_ popped up that they’d really come back into each other’s lives. 

It was good to have her best friend regularly in her life once more. She knew him; she knew he’d have the same reservations that she did. They weren’t a couple. They could never be a couple. 

“We can’t do this." 

Maria opened her mouth, ready to throw out another argument when there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Both of them turned to see Phil enter, clutching the new script in his hand. “See, he knocks. That’s why he’s my favourite. Everything okay, Phil?”

"More than okay. I just wanted to come and let you know how excited I am for the new reason. I think the show is going to go in a really interesting direction." 

Melinda turned her head to meet Phil’s. He was beaming, his eyes bright and giddy. He really  _did_ like the script. “Did you read the entire thing?” 

"I did!” Phil ducked over and took the spare seat next to her. “It’s going to be such a challenge, I think it’ll really stretch us. But it’s going to be so good. I mean, who hasn’t wanted Tom and Beth together, right?" 

Maria kept quiet, but the glint in her eye was enough to put Melinda in her place. Half a season ago, Tom and Beth together was the  _last_ thing Melinda thought Phil wanted. Something had happened over the hiatus. She was determined to find out what, fix it, and end this ridiculous plot line. She couldn’t play opposite Phil romantically. That cut too close to the bone for her to stomach. 


	29. "Table Read" [Philinda - Actors AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suallenparker prompted: "First time practicing the kissing scene?"
> 
> This is a sequel to the last chapter, "Love Interest".

Melinda May walked back to her trailer, her muscles aching after spending three hours choreographing her fight scenes for the first episode of season three. This year they were ramping up everything, including the violence. Whilst her body could cope with the range of movements necessary to take on four stunt men posing as treasure hunters, it still needed rest and a long,  _hot_ shower. 

Pushing open the door of her trailer, Melinda was surprised to find Phil sitting at the desk with his script in hand. They had known each other for years, there was no problem with him wandering in and borrowing a bottle of water or stealing the macaroons she bought. Especially as she’d been known to use his shower when she couldn’t be bothered to walk to her own. But ever since the first script had come in, she’d felt awkward when she saw him.

”I thought you’d left already.” 

“Nope,” Phil said, raising his shoulders in a shrug. “I kind of wanted to talk to you alone, about the first script.”

Maybe he’d been supportive of the script in front of Maria, but had changed his mind. Maybe he had come here to get her support in changing the script. A hug would work perfectly in place of a kiss, a gentle but poignant moment. “Of course.”

She sat down in the spare seat opposite Phil, leaning back against the chair. Whilst she collapsed against the furniture, he shuffled forward. Something was on his mind. “Tomorrow’s our first read through of the script. I know you’ve had misgivings about the kiss…”  _Here we go._ “So I thought it would be best to practice in private. Just the two of us." 

 _What?_ "You want to kiss me?" 

Phil laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought we’d both feel a little more comfortable if we did it in private. Work out any kinks.”

Melinda swallowed, trying to organise her thoughts. Phil was one of the most gifted actors she had ever worked with. If this was the direction he wanted to go…”Sure. Let me get my script.”

Standing up, she searched for the script she needed. It was a fairly standard first episode by  _History of the Dead_ standards. Tom’s work at the University led him to a new lead on a treasured artefact, he called up his best friend and partner in crime Beth and they went treasure seeking. Nothing was mentioned about the moment that ended last season, where Tom had stood in Sarah’s office ready to tell her the truth about his extra curricular activities. 

This kiss would certainly throw a spanner in the works. “How does Audrey feel about the kiss?” 

"She’s interested to see how it plays out. Her tour schedule clashes with the first four episodes of shooting but she’ll be back on set soon enough.” Phil and Audrey got on marvellously well, a little  _too_ well for Melinda’s tastes. But that was Phil’s business. “I think Tom’s confused. I think he thought he was in love with Sarah but after Beth gets injured again he realises he can’t live without her.” 

Melinda nodded, scribbling a couple of notes down in the margins of her script. Fight scenes she could handle. Stunts, zip wires, driving down rough terrain…all things she could do with her eyes closed. She’d never been very comfortable in romantic scenes. She’d killed potential story lines for a love interest for Beth  _twice._

“So Tom has to take the lead.” Melinda said, standing in front of Phil. “How are we going to do this?" 

"I have some ideas.” Phil stood up, his hands taking hers. He moved in closer, his body almost too close. “I’ve given it some thought, run a few scenarios." 

Melinda smiled.  _Always the dedicated actor._ "So, what’s your favourite? How would you kiss me?” She paused. If they were going to do this, they needed to keep it professional. “How would Tom kiss Beth?”

“He’d get too close and he couldn’t resist it any longer. This dig is the first time they’ve seen each other since the finale. He’s been thinking so much about her, wanting to call her but not being able to dial the phone.” Phil cupped her face, his thumb brushing along where make up would plant a pretty nasty bruise.  _“You need to stop taking so many unnecessary risks.”_

He’d memorised the lines. Of course he had. Melinda raised her script, squinting for her next line. “ _Of course I did. Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”_

_“It’s a black eye this week, a few months ago you broke half your rib cage."_

_"Well maybe you should stick to teaching instead of running around the world looking for pots and pans."_ Melinda poked his chest, pushing him away with the force of her finger. She was supposed to lean in closer for her next line, but the line after that was the kiss and… “Phil, I can’t do this. I can’t kiss you.” 

Phil dropped his hands from her face, nodding as he seemed to accept that the scene won’t work. “I get it.”

"I hope you do. Tom belongs with Sarah, not Beth. They need to remain friends, that’s what she’s there for. Her entire life is dedicated to keeping him safe, protecting him. If things went wrong and she had to leave then she would never forgive herself." 

Melinda stepped forward, one hand cupping Phil’s cheek and the other his neck, pulling him closer. He seemed surprised but he moved into it. The thin line between rehearsing and reality seemed blurred as his hand held her hip.

 _"Maybe you should stick to teaching instead of running around the world looking for pots and pans to turn up. I won’t be here forever."_ It was an ad-lib, but it worked.

“ _Maybe I want you to be.”_

They had both excelled at improvisation, bouncing off each other in a way that they never could with anyone else. The new dialogue satisfied both their characters: Tom realising he felt more for Beth than he thought; Beth not wanting to risk his safety. 

Phil kissed her first. His lips were soft, gentle as they pressed lightly against her mouth. His blue eyes were closed under heavy lids, his firm hands trying to curve her body against his own. Her head felt heavy, her mind blurry. This wasn’t the crazy passion the writers had in mind. But something decidedly more intimate.

Something more real. 

"That’ll work." 


	30. "The Wrong Man" [Philinda - College AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> acoupletshort prompted: "Mistaken identity"

Phil Coulson wasn’t sure what to expect when he opened his dorm room door to find a beautiful woman standing there. He didn’t recognise her, which meant the likelihood that they shared a class was low. He thought that perhaps his  _buddy_ Garrett had hired a stripper-gram, which wouldn’t be the first time. Phil still remembered the g-string that had ended up in his lap after Blake had been sent the very attractive Lacey during their library study session. 

Things didn’t clear up, especially after this incredibly beautiful woman threw out her fist and Phil heard something break. Then his nose was gushing.

“You know, if it was legal I would be throwing you off the clock tower right now." 

Phil raised his hand to his nose, stemming the flow of blood pouring out. He was in a lot of pain but he thought that the damage may be cartilage rather than bone. Either way, Phil was determined to get as far away from the woman as possible. He was just lucky she hadn’t found him running across the bridge or he would be sleeping with the fishes. 

"I’m sorry,” Phil choked out, pressing his jacket sleeve to his nose. “What did I do?" 

He thought his question was a simple one, especially as he couldn’t think of any of his recent actions that would have earned such a beating. But the question seemed to only make the woman angrier. “ _What did you do?_ You don’t remember Maria? My friend who you humiliated, you piece of…you know I think a broken rib or two would go nicely with your nose.”

The woman advanced further into his dorm room and Phil held up his hands, trying to stop her. “I don’t know a Maria, I swear to god. I barely know anybody,  _please._ " 

"Maria, Maria Hill? You’ve been practically stalking her and harassing her for a month now." 

His jacket sleeve was soaked as he moved it away from his nose. “No ma’am. I don’t know a Maria Hill. But, just for arguments sake, who do you think I am?” 

"You’re not John Garrett, are you?" 

"No ma’am. Check my student ID if you don’t believe me.”

Phil almost held his breath as the woman walked over to his wallet and flicked through to his student ID. She hissed something under her breath that Phil didn’t understand. Garrett was a dead man. Phil just wasn’t sure who would get to him first, this woman or  _him._

For the second time that afternoon, Phil was surprised as the woman didn’t leave right away. Instead she pried his sleeve from his face and looked at his nose. “I’m sorry. I really, truly am.” 

She grabbed a water bottle and a flannel and started dabbing at the blood on his nose. The woman had deflated, the anger leaving her as she fixed up her mistake. Phil kept his own counsel as she tried to heal what she had broken, biting the inside of her mouth every time he winced. It was the strangest thought to have when he was in so much pain, but she really was beautiful. 


	31. "Emergency Room" [Philinda - College AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> acoupletshort prompted: "As May brings Phil to the hospital she's trying to figure out how to make it up to the poor guy whose nose she broke. Hell of a first impression to make!"
> 
> This is a sequel to the previous chapter, "The Wrong Man".

Melinda May was used to hospitals. Sprained wrists, inflamed ligaments, she was used to all these things with the training she did. The only time she’d been in one for someone else had been when her grandmother had passed away. She’d never actually  _sent_ someone to the hospital before. Not until now. 

“Well, thankfully Mister Coulson, you’ve just damaged the cartilage in your nose. No bones were broken, although it’s going to hurt like hell for a while. How did you say this happened again?" 

Melinda turned to the poor schmuk whose nose she almost broke. Underneath all the plaster and bandages he was actually quite cute. Serves her right for relying on Barton’s concept of surveillance. She’d hurt an innocent guy, and Melinda stood ready for him to rat her out. 

"Wasn’t looking where I was going, ended up smacking nose first into a wall." 

The doctor nodded, made a few more notes and shuffled off to write up a prescription for pain killers. Melinda peered closer at the kid she’d landed in the emergency room. “You didn’t tell him I broke it. Why?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I kinda want you on the streets so you can do this to Garrett.”

Melinda chuckled, crossing her arms as she continued to stare at the boy in front of her. He was going to be sore for a while, nosebleeds every now and then. Maybe even some bruising around the eyes if he wasn’t careful. He certainly wouldn’t be hooking up with any sorority girls any time soon. 

"Don’t worry, I fully intend to get Garrett back for everything.” Melinda ran a hand through her hair. She wasn’t good at talking to people at the best of times, especially not cute guys who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. “What can I do to make this up to you? I don’t have much in my savings account but…”

The guy - Phil - turned to her and placed his hand over hers. “I don’t want your money. I’m not going to sue you.” 

“I meant the prescriptions, the medical treatment. I can cover that, as I should considering I broke your face." 

"You never know, might even be an improvement!” Phil laughed, wincing at the movement hurt his injury further. “This wasn’t how I’d thought my day was going to go." 

Melinda nodded, feeling exactly the same. After consoling Maria, Melinda had phoned Clint and got what she thought was Garrett’s address. She’d planned to break his nose, maybe a rib, and then hang him out of his dorm room window. Instead Garrett was still unpunished. She needed to do something for this guy, just to make amends. Her hands were talented, her skills particularly honed for someone of her age. That came with a responsibility she had violated today. 

"Can I do anything else? I could get you some band tickets, hell I can get you some cheap liquor. I know a guy.” Melinda brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She sucked at this. “I am sorry. Unbelievably so.”

Phil nodded, offering her a pained smile. “I know you are. You don’t have to do anything except- _what’s your name_?”

“Melinda. It’s Melinda." 


	32. "Field Trip" [Philinda & Skye - Single Parent AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mgeorgiexx prompted Field Trip with Little Skye. This is a sequel to "The Karate Kid".

It had taken some doing, he now owed several of his fellow professors favours. But he now had the day free to accompany Skye and her class to the Smithsonian so they could check out the brand new  _Captain America_ exhibit. He’d been planning a trip for a while, but when Skye’s teacher Ms Hand had asked for volunteers, it was the perfect opportunity. He and Skye could always go one Saturday afternoon just the two of them if they didn’t get to see the good stuff. 

”Are you excited about today, Skye?” Phil asked, holding his daughter’s hand as they crossed the school parking lot to the yellow bus waiting by the kerb. 

Skye nodded, her hair blowing all over the place as she jerked him forward. “Of course I am! I love field trips. No boring lessons.” 

“But we’re going to a special exhibit, the Captain America exhibit. World’s first superhero.”

“What superpowers did he have?” Skye babbled. “DId he fly? Did he shoot death rays out of his eyes?” Skye giggled as they stepped onto the pavement. “Is that how he defeated the Nazis? He killed them all with his death ray eyes?" 

Phil sighed, shaking his head as they came round to the door of the bus. “Sometimes I wonder what they’re teaching you in school these days.”

Ms Hand was waiting by the bus door, ticking off children as they climbed aboard. Skye shook off his hand and ran onto the bus, sitting on one of the front seats besides her friend Jemma. No goodbye hug and kiss on the cheek today. Especially not in front of her peers. 

"Good morning, Ms Hand." 

Hand was a tall woman; imposing with a stern voice and an even stricter standard of teaching. They’d had their differences at the start of the school year, but eventually they had seen eye to eye. “Good morning, Mister Coulson. Thank you for accompanying us today. Sadly Missus Lydon had a work emergency, so I had to call in a favour for another volunteer.”

"Oh, who?" 

"Me." 

Phil turned to greet the newcomer, his jaw going slack as he came face to face with Skye’s karate instructor. He’d only ever seen Melinda May in gym clothes in her studio, never out in the real world wearing jeans and a leather jacket. She looked good,  _amazing._ He should probably say something before either woman realised how much of a crush he was nursing.

"Skye’ll be so excited, she hasn’t stopped trying to break bottles since her class on Tuesday.” He still hadn’t signed up for that Tai Chi class. Or Skye for a second karate class. He really did need to see her more than once a week. Maybe then he wouldn’t act like such an idiot. “Thanks for stepping up." 

Hand left them to get on the bus together, Melinda smiling as Phil let her aboard first. “No problem. I love the Smithsonian, and I owe Tori a favour. I’m looking forward to it.” 

Phil nodded, hoping she was right as they took two seats in the front. Behind them, the children were starting to get a little restless. Over the top of their seats popped a little head he knew all too well. His daughter’s hair, as always, was in a tangle already. But her grin was wide as she saw who was joining them on the field trip. 

"Hi, Melinda! Are we going to be doing karate on the field trip?" 

Phil chuckled softly, Melinda joining in as they looked up at Skye. “Not today, Skye. Maybe when you’re a little older your father could take you on a trip where you can. I’ve got a trip to China planned this summer.” 

"So cool.” Skye brushed some of the tangles back from her shoulders. “We’re going to see the Captain America exhibit. He was the world’s first superhero, did you know." 

"I did not know that. See, I’m learning things already." 

Skye nodded, and Phil was just _enchanted_. He couldn’t get enough out of watching Skye interact with Melinda, and vice versa. Even if his crush never went anywhere, it was nice that Skye had a woman she felt so free to talk to. He was dreading his baby girl hitting puberty.

"Yup, Dad told me that. Dad  _loves_ Captain America. He’s got all the comic books, posters. He’s even got Captain America underwear. I bet he’d show them to you if you asked!”

Phil felt his neck flush pink as Melinda’s eyes suddenly swivelled in his direction. He swallowed, trying to figure out what to say next. Across from him, Melinda looked like she was on the verge of laughing. He was glad someone was amused. “Skye, sweetie, I don’t think Ms May wants to see my underwear.” 

"At least not on a bus full of kids." 

The off hand remark seemed to quieten his daughter, but it did nothing to still his mind.She couldn’t have meant that. Could she?  _No._

He was sweating again. Suddenly the prospect of this field trip was filling him with terror. 


	33. "Plus One" [Philinda - preseries]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Phil is forced to go (to a wedding reception) so it's only fair that he forces Melinda to go with him as well. Bonus points if Phil tells his family/friends that she's his girlfriend to get them off his back, but it's not necessary if you can't fit it in."

Phil had never been comfortable at family functions, not since his father had passed away. His dad would take goofy pictures and let him crawl underneath the dessert table, feeding him slices of cheese and grapes as they pretended to be Captain America and Bucky Barnes. As he grew up without his father, Phil had had to be  _him_ at weddings and funerals and christenings and family reunions. No shield, no grapes, no running around the grounds shooting Nazis. 

He’d never been comfortable being Phil Coulson with his family. Especially not now that his whole back story was a lie. 

”So, Phil, what are you doing now?” 

Phil coughed, summoning up the same stock answer he’d fed to the rest of his family. “I’m working in a post grad program, looking to teach History at a university somewhere.” 

“How  _wonderful._ ” Of course it was. “Are you seeing anyone? You know my neighbour’s daughter just broke up with her boyfriend?" 

Another offer of a set up. “I am seeing someone. I brought her today, in fact. I don’t know where she got to though.”

Phil peered around halfheartedly, knowing without question that Melinda was off somewhere getting into trouble. When the invitation for his cousin’s wedding had hit his doorstep, Melinda had teased him ruthlessly about dressing up nice, playing pretend with the relatives. She hadn’t been laughing so much when he’d called in his marker. 

His eyes suddenly caught a glimmer of lilac, the colour of Melinda’s dress she had chosen to wear for the wedding. She was a vision, definitely more enchanting than the bride. As she moved back into the party, his cousin Jimmy followed from behind with what looked like a broken finger, Phil reached out his hand for her to take. 

"Aunt Susan, this is Melinda." 

Melinda shook his aunt’s hand before curling a little against his side. Infiltrating an enemy base under heavy fire, scaling a building, knocking out a room full of armed guards…none of those things fazed Melinda. Put her in a dress and a wedding and she was so quiet, so shy. It was quite adorable to witness. Not that he could say much: the only reason he was here was because Melinda had agreed to accompany him.

"You know, we always hoped Phil would meet a sweet girl. How long have you two been seeing each other?" 

Melinda opened her mouth to correct his aunt, but Phil just squeezed her hand tighter. His thumb brushed over her wrist, their little signal to just go along with whatever was happening. “We met freshman year and we’ve been friends for a while but we’ve only been dating six months.” 

His aunt beamed. “Well that’s wonderful. I expect I’ll be attending your wedding  _very_ soon!”

His neck was turning pink, he could feel his skin going warm. Phil tried to shrug it off, knowing full well that Melinda never had any intentions of getting married. Especially not to him. “You never know! Maybe one day I’ll pick the perfect ring, get down on one knee.” 

"Oh how  _grand._ You know, your grandmother will be so happy that you’ve finally met someone. Come on, let’s share the good news!” 

Melinda’s arm was nearly yanked out of her socket as his aunt dragged her under the gazebo full of relatives. Wincing, Phil followed. He’d invited her as his friend, they’d established that. This was going to cost him big time. Hopefully a few neck massages and foot rubs rather than a couple of broken ribs. The former was fun for everyone. 

"Phil,  _pumpkin,_ are you joining us?” 

"Yes dear!”

Broken ribs it was. 


	34. "Interrogation" [Philinda - preseries]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> righteousnerd prompted a sequel to "Plus One".

Melinda May solemnly swore never to include Phil Coulson in any one of her pranks again. After all, it was him covering her ass the last time that had led to the marker, which had led to her now sitting under a gazebo, fawned over by Phil’s entire extended family. 

She hadn’t minded attending his cousin’s wedding with him, had actually been looking forward to it. Melinda had wanted to see the world that Phil had come from. So she’d slipped into a brand new lilac dress that had taken two shopping trips to find but had made Phil’s jaw go slack. She’d done her hair and held his arm and everything had been going  _perfectly_ until Phil had enacted CHARLIE protocol.

Normally such a protocol was employed at bars where Phil’s arm around her shoulder was preferable to breaking the hand of the man feeling up her knee. It was strange to be Phil’s girlfriend for once.

“You know, Phil’s never brought a girl to any family function before,” Phil’s Aunt Terri said, patting her knee. “We’re all dying to hear about the girl that won his heart.”

Melinda paused, wetting her lips as she turned to the statue previously known as Phil Coulson beside her. His hands were right on his knees, the back of his neck beading with sweat. She wasn’t sure what he was more scared of: his family or  _her._ True, she had been debating which bones of his to break. But he wouldn’t have enacted CHARLIE protocol without a good reason and she would do anything for him.  _Anything._

“Well, I’m from Pennsylvania. Small little town in the middle of nowhere. I went to Georgetown with Phil, I’m pre-law and I’m  _very_ much in love with your nephew.” Her hand snatched at Phil’s, cradling it within her own. Bright and bubbly she could play: wide smile, lots of teeth, clear voice. Nose nuzzling Phil’s jaw. Easy. Just not for very long. “The first time I saw him, I  _knew_ I was going to fall in love with him. I just wish he’d asked me out sooner than he did!” 

Pleasant laughter rippled throughout the gazebo. Phil’s neck turned pink as every eye in their assembled group was fixed on him. Melinda leaned over and cupped his jaw before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Phil, thankfully, didn’t startle like a deer as her lips met his warm skin. But then they’d had plenty of practice at this. Despite having played Phil’s girlfriend on many a training exercise, however, this time was different. One of them was being himself. No lies, no forged ID’s or back stories. A few mistruths, perhaps. But it was still Phil her best friend she had just kissed. 

"So, Phil,” Aunt Susan began gleefully. “When was the first time you realised you were in love with Melinda?" 

Melinda curled herself around Phil, her right hand rubbing his shoulder blades whilst the other toyed with this tie. The small group were now focused on her, giving Phil some breathing space to come up with another mistruth. 

"It was during Orientation at Georgetown. Some idiot was causing trouble, Melinda gave him hell back. She was so magnificent, this tiny woman with so much strength.” Phil reached over and brushed a strand of hair trying to escape the pins behind her ear. “I was half in love with her from one glance." 

Mistruths. Phil had told her that very same story; had told her he knew he had to get to know her after that moment back at the Academy. _Take the truth and twist it_. Best thing to do on the fly. The crowd lapped it up, eager to know more. Thankfully, before any further questions were asked, the bride and groom came into the gazebo for their first dance. 

With everyone distracted by the happy couple, Phil turned straight to her. “Thank you for going along with this.”

"You owe me. I’m talking multiple favours, neck massages for a  _month._ ” Melinda’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Your aunt gave me the name of a wedding planner and invited me to tea next week to discuss conning you into proposing.”

“I’m sorry.” Phil reached over and pecked her cheek in apology. “Anything you want, it’s yours." 

Melinda leant back against Phil’s chest, grateful to have a break from the onslaught of questions. She hated undercover work, hated even more that she was  _good_ at it. Or at least she was with Phil by her side. They’d get through tonight, dance and eat cake. It would be okay. Maybe she could even persuade Phil to throw the relatives a bone by sharing a kiss. He really was an amazing kisser.

And it was only for tonight. They’d be back to normal tomorrow. No harm, no foul. 


	35. "Afterlife" [Philinda - 405 tag]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted "continuation of Philinda's What Did You See talk :)"

An empty coffin was buried in place of Lucy Bauer in the small Pasadena cemetery. There was a plot next to her for her husband Joseph. In two days the few mourners that still remembered the Bauers would come and pay their respects. Their team, therefore, had until the break of dawn to search for that damn book. 

The cemetery was quiet; punctuated solely by the sound of shovels sifting through cold earth. Three shovels made their way into the ground: Mack timidly, Phil forcefully, and Melinda with no hesitation. It was hoped that, as SHIELD had closed in on Lucy, she had hidden the book somewhere she knew. FitzSimmons were checking the Bauer’s former residence. Daisy and Robbie were making their way through the previous owners of the Darkhold. The three of them had drawn the short straw: _gravediggers._

 _“_ Ghosts, deals with the devil, now grave digging...” Beside her, Mack shook his head. “I am definitely going to church this Sunday.”

“You act like this is the first grave you’ve ever dug up,” Melinda said, lifting up another shovelful of soil and depositing it on the pile to her right. She glanced up, meeting Mack’s horrified expression. “It’s not what you think.” 

Mack shook his head, forcing the shovel back inside the ground. “I’m not asking. I don’t want to know.”

Phil remained silent as they continued their work. He only spoke when his shovel connected with solid wood. A six foot drop was all that stood between them and the potential of a way out of this mess. Someone needed to jump down and open the coffin. Phil glanced awkwardly between the two of them. “So, Mack...”

“I’m not climbing down there.”

“Well May and I aren’t going in. We’ve both _..._ jumping into a grave just seems like tempting fate.” 

Before Mack could argue the point, Melinda dropped down onto the lid of the coffin. She rolled her eyes at the two men. “Not my first time.”

“Now I _really_ don’t want to know.”

Searching Lucy’s coffin was certainly a lot easier than the last one she had dug up. In the middle of the day, onlookers all around; Hydra and the US Military searching for SHIELD assets. Phil tossed her down a crowbar, watching her intently in case she pushed herself too hard. Mack just shook his head, wincing as she pried open the lid. _Nothing. “_ No book.” 

“Great.” Mack wiped his arm across his brow. “I’m going to check in with Fitz and Daisy, see if they’ve had better luck.”

Melinda heard Mack’s footsteps in the soil as he returned to the car. Before returning topside, she used her pocket flashlight to check the surrounding earth. She even tore into the lining of the coffin, wanting to make sure they didn’t miss anything. But the book wasn’t there. _Dammit._ Bauer was out there, somewhere, with a book that did _god knows_ what. And she’d killed her. The psychosis Bauer had passed onto her had _killed_ her. May wanted to make sure that didn’t happen to anyone else. 

“Okay, let’s put the dirt back and go home.”

She sunk one hand into the earth, using a root for leverage as she hoisted herself out of the grave. She felt a hand on her arm; wrapped her free hand around Phil’s shoulder and used him as an anchor to hoist herself back onto dry land. She landed half on top of him, his body a softer landing than the ground. 

Phil stared up at her, his blue eyes soft and yielding. He lifted his left hand to her face, brushing a smear of dirt away from her skin. Melinda bowed her head. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

Not wanting to be in this position when Mack returned, they quickly righted themselves. Melinda got to her feet, shaking her hair and clothes free of graveyard dirt. Phil got to his feet too, but he was turned towards Lucy’s gravestone. Melinda watched as he traced the letters etched into the granite. 

“I have one of these, don’t I?”

“Yes.” She’d never told him it was his grave she’d unearthed. She didn’t wish to tell him now. “There was a funeral, too.”

“All part of the charade to cover up Tahiti.” Phil patted the top of Bauer’s tombstone before he turned back to her. The softness in his eyes had faded, replaced by the anguish she only saw when he relived New York. “I never thought about it until what happened to you. What they took from me. Not just the memories of my recovery, but what happened _before._ I was dead for days.”

Melinda swallowed. “I remember.” 

He sighed, arms wrapped across him. “I keep wondering if I saw my parents. My father especially. I keep thinking that _maybe_ I talked to him; got to see him for the first time since I was a kid. Sometimes I think that there’s a memory of it, but I know that there isn’t.”

“I could always knock you out with the shovel.” 

Phil’s lips thinned, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Make your jokes. But I’m jealous. You _saw_ something _.”_

 _Him._ She’d seen _him._ Ever since her admission during the prison mission, she had tried to work out how she could explain when he asked her again. And he would. And he did. He left Bauer’s grave, stood by her side. His eyes begged her to say  _something._ Their deaths was another string between them. His presence _after_ was something more. 

Gesturing to the tarp they’d laid out, Melinda sat cross legged in front of Bauer’s grave. Phil joined her, sitting closer than he usually would. His eyes held hers, occasionally flicking to her mouth. _Just like usual._ He was waiting for her to talk. She didn’t know quite what to say. “I didn’t remember at first. It took some time for the memories to come back. But I know that I wasn’t... _there._ I was in-between.” 

“In-between what?” 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was a room. A safe house, I think. The light got brighter the longer I was there. I wasn’t alone.” 

Phil smiled a little brighter this time. “I was there with you.”

A single nod. She recalled flashes. The light reflecting in his eyes; the softness of his hand against hers. Something else she wouldn’t divulge. “You told me to come back. You told me to fight.”

“And you did.”

“I did. Good thing too. I’d hate to end up like Bauer.” Phil squinted, his eyes narrowing at her. “Traditionally if you have unfinished business when you die, you become a ghost. Haunting Radcliffe does have a certain appeal though.” 

Phil chuckled at the thought of her slowly torturing the Scottish scientist. But Melinda knew she wouldn’t be able to get away with a joke, a half smile this time. This second thread between them needed to be addressed. “Unfinished business, huh?” 

“Yeah.” She bobbed her head. “Unfinished business.” 

“I never liked that phrase.” It was Melinda’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You do what needs to be done, business is _finished._ You move on. I prefer... _half-started.”_

“Half-started?” 

Phil nodded, smile widening. “Yeah. Like, you started something when you were much younger. Began to lay the groundwork but never finished the foundation. Still got a long journey, but the journey is the fun part.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Melinda, I don’t want to finish things. I want to start them.” 

“I want that too.”

She’d wanted it since New York, when she’d realised the true extent of her _unfinished business_ with Phil. They could have talked about it on the Bus, they could have talked about it when he had become Director. But in some way Phil was right: talking about it then, things would have _finished._ Now they could start.

As a soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth, Melinda slid her hand against his neck. Phil’s blue eyes were dark, unwavering. She felt his fingers cup the nape of her neck as they pulled closer to the other. Phil’s lips barely grazed hers before the stomp of Mack’s feet tore through the bubble they had created. 

“Seriously you two? It’s a _goddamn_ cemetery.” 

Mack had a point. Suddenly the smell of death and freshly turned earth was overwhelming. They got to their feet, picked up their shovels, and joined Mack in filling in the grave of Lucy Bauer. Melinda had never had one. Phil’s was empty. They had both been spared from death. They now had a second chance at life, at love. 

It was _time._


	36. "House Guest" [Philinda & Skye - New House]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: "Philinda being domestic together in their apartment. Until Daisy decides to crash. "

It was the car alarm that woke her.

Melinda’s eyes snapped open as soon as she heard the first squeals from the street outside. Gritting her teeth, Melinda slid out of bed and crept softly over to the window. She pushed open a small crack in the blinds, waiting for her target to appear. Sure enough, the dark silhouette of a man approached the flashing car. The streetlights were too dim to make out a face, but every night she was able to discover another detail. Today she noticed a logo on the sleep shirt he wore. _A steakhouse chain._ She made a note on the legal pad beside the window to call all local chains in the morning.

Just as her target made his stealthy retreat back to his hiding spot, a lamp snapped on behind her. Phil rubbed his face, glaring blearily across their bedroom. “Melinda, please come back to bed.”

“I’ve nearly got him.”

Phil reached over for the small clock on their bedside table. Captain America’s shield was pointing towards the two. “It’s the middle of the night, please come back to bed.”

Melinda hesitated, her gaze darting between the man she loved warm in their bed, and the cold street where her target lurked. The car alarm always rang twice; she would have another opportunity to catch her perpetrator in the act. But as Phil gave her _that_ look _,_ Melinda abandoned her post and padded over to join her partner. Phil opened the sheets for her to slide in, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her.

“You know, you could just _knock_ on the neighbours doors and ask them if they know who the red car belongs to,” Phi said, dropping a kiss to her temple. “Or, we could ask Mack to run the plates.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Phil chuckled, kissing her again; this time on the lips. “Point taken. But can we get back to sleep, please? This is the first time since we moved in that we get to spend all morning in bed.”

Melinda bobbed her head, leaving a kiss against Phil’s jaw. “Fine. Night.”

“Night.”

Melinda slid out of Phil’s embrace, returning to her side of the bed. Phil switched off the lamp, and the room was plunged into darkness save for the thin beam streaming in from outside. Phil, coming off a three week rotation on the Zephyr, immediately fell back to sleep. Melinda just stared at the ceiling, willing herself to rest. This was the first break they’d had in two months. An entire week off together. They could sleep, recharge, finish unpacking their new house. Finish christening the house…

Smirking, Melinda thought of something they could do that would keep them up a little longer. But as her hand snaked across her partner’s chest, she heard a sound from downstairs. She held her breath, waiting to see if the sound was made again. _It was._ Someone was in their house. Melinda quickly tapped Phil’s chest, covering his mouth so he didn’t make a sound. His frown quickly turned to alarm when he, too, realised that someone had broken in. _They’d picked the wrong house for that._

Melinda eased herself out of bed, heading downstairs to confront the assailant. Their service weapons were kept in a locked and retinal scan activated box in their bedroom. There was also a baseball bat in the hallway, as well as a basketball that Phil kept forgetting to put away. Melinda didn’t need any of those. She slipped down the staircase, keeping her ears open for any sound of the intruder. She heard rustling in the kitchen, the sound of the refrigerator being opened. Making a snack _and_ stealing their possessions? Their intruder was brave. _Not for much longer._

She stealthily approached, using the shadows of the kitchen to cloak herself. Just as the thief closed the refrigerator door, Melinda lunged. She grabbed the intruder by the hand, twisting their arm until it was an inch away from snapping. The thief cried out.

“May, May it’s me! It’s Daisy!”

Melinda immediately let go. In the dim light of the kitchen, she could see the shadowy features of the girl who had once been her protégé. There were footsteps out in the hall, and Phil quickly appeared in the doorway. As soon as he saw Daisy, he dropped the ICER he’d grabbed as a precaution.

“Daisy. What the hell are you doing here?”

The former SHIELD agent lifted up the beer she’d stolen from the fridge. “I was thirsty?”

\--

 

The last time they had seen Daisy Johnson was six months ago. They’d defeated Eli Morrow, putting an end to his reign of terror. They’d celebrated: pizza and beer in the Playground common room. But like the last time she’d left, Daisy had gone with not a word, not a whisper. Just a promise from Director Mace that the charges against her would be dropped if she kept out of trouble; and an oil stain where the Charger had once stood. Robbie and his brother Gabe, too, had disappeared. It wasn’t the first time that Daisy had given someone a new life. But both she and Phil had wondered when _she_ was going to get one for herself.

Sitting at their breakfast bar, taking a sip of beer, it was like the last six months hadn’t happened at all. Her eyes were still caked in eyeliner and mascara. Her clothes looked like she’d raided a _Hot Topic_ store. Her shoulder was busted from where a serrated blade had plunged through her skin. Melinda wrenching her shoulder had only aggravated the wound. There was now bloody gauze and cotton wool staining their nice, new breakfast bar.

“Do I want to know?” Melinda asked as she gently cleaned Daisy’s wound.

She tried hard not to wince at the pain. “Probably not. But you should see the other guy.”

“I don’t doubt it.” It wasn’t the first time she’d had to care for Daisy’s wounds. When she’d left six months ago, she’d hoped it would be the last. But there were more scars and half healed wounds on Daisy than Melinda remembered. “Who patched you up this time?”

“Just me. I’m getting pretty good at it. Thinking of making Fitz a scarf for Christmas.”

Melinda snorted. “Buy it. _Trust me_.”

The stitches were uneven, and the thread she’d used was keeping the wound apart rather than knitting it together. Daisy drained the rest of her beer as Melinda began to stitch up the wound properly. “This is a nice place. When did you guys move in?”

“Two months ago.” Melinda eyed the boxes still on the countertops, in the hallway. “We’ve been busy.”

Mace had _kept_ them busy. They’d managed to secure a weekend where they could move in to their new house but they’d barely had time to christen the place before Phil was out on assignment. Two months after moving in, they had finally managed to organise a week where they could unpack their belongings, sort out the junk in the garage, tidy up the garden. This week was about making their house a home.

“So, how did you find us?” Phil asked, crossing over the kitchen to join them by the breakfast bar. He slid a grilled cheese in front of Daisy, encouraging her to eat. “Better question, how d’you get in?”

“Fitz is good, but I’m better. I managed to hack your alarm code. _Ow._ ” Melinda finished the last stitch. “As for finding you guys, I’ve been keeping an eye on Simmons’ search history. She was looking up directions for your place. I honestly meant to find a motel, but money’s a little tight. I was just looking to grab some food, sleep in your garage.” Daisy bowed her head. “I didn’t mean to disturb you guys.”

“It’s okay.” Phil stared, smiling at her, until Daisy finally picked up the sandwich. “Do you need money? We can lend you some.”

“No, _no,_ I…” Daisy sucked in a breath. “I’m doing some casual work here and there, trying to keep my nose clean. I’m owed a few bucks, so I’ll be okay. I just needed a place to crash for the night.”

With Daisy’s shoulder cleaned and dressed, Melinda packed away the first aid kit. She watched Daisy and Phil talk softly by the breakfast bar, Phil intent on making sure she ate every mouthful of the sandwich he’d made her. Since the last time they’d seen her, Daisy looked like she had lost her purpose, her will. She was being sloppy again; not taking care of herself. As she met Phil’s gaze, she nodded.

“Phil, do you want to make up the guest room?”

With a mouthful of grilled cheese, Daisy tried to protest. But Melinda’s hand against her own silenced them. “Daisy, sometimes it’s _okay_ to ask for help.”

She swallowed. “ _Fine_. But just for tonight, I’ll be out of your hair by morning.”

By the doorway, Phil grinned. “What, and miss my pancakes? Double chocolate with whipped cream…best way to start the day!”

Daisy didn’t answer. Melinda fully expected her to leave with the bed fully made and two less beers in the fridge come tomorrow morning. But at least she and Phil both knew that, for one night at least, she was safe. After locking down the house, Melinda walked Daisy upstairs to the guest room. It was light, airy, and was home to several unpacked boxes. An old pair of Melinda’s pyjamas was laid out for her, along with a spare toothbrush. Daisy barely made eye contact as she walked inside, easing the door closed behind her.  

Back in their bedroom, Phil was already tucked underneath the covers. Once again, he opened them up for Melinda to slide into. She rested her head against his chest, felt him tease the strands of her dark hair. With a brush of his lips against her temple, she finally fell asleep.


	37. "Mannequin" [Philinda - Stock Photo AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Could I prompt the Wedding category with a scene of Phil and Melinda getting wedding photos taken?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took this in a different direction than you probably intended; hope you enjoy it anyway!

Melinda May had never imagined her wedding like this. But, then, being barely a year out of college, she had rarely given a thought to marriage other than to deem her recent partners unworthy. She knew, however, that she would never get married like this. The light outside might be perfect, but the breeze was a few degrees shy of freezing and the gravestones to the left reminded Melinda too much of _to death do us part._

Nor, in her own wedding, would she wear a dress like _this_. The gown pinched at her hips and the lace scratched at her throat. The ivory heels, when not carving patterns into her feet, sunk into earth sodden by three days rain. She was sure the cheap gold of the wedding band she wore was turning her finger green. As for the groom...well she had only met him that morning. 

“Okay, _smile..._ this is supposed to be the happiest day of your life!”

Melinda picked up the corners of her mouth, trying to smile despite the corset of the dress digging into her ribs. “My face hurts.”

Beside her, the groom produced his own grimace. “Mine too.”

Most of her partners didn’t talk during shoots, so Melinda was quite surprised at the groom’s response. But the photographer wasn’t as thrilled as she was. Jeffery Mace glared at them both. “A little less talking, a little more smiling _please.”_

Melinda imagined grabbing Mace in a headlock. Unsurprisingly, the smile came. She pressed a hand to the front of the groom’s suit, curling her fingers around a cheap button. She looked up at his face and tried to summon another happy emotion. Instead, she was drawn in by his eyes. In her previous shoots, her partner’s eyes had always appeared lifeless; like a mannequin. But these eyes were bright, blue, full of life. She found herself searching for her own reflection in them. 

“Beautiful” Melinda jerked her head from the groom to Mace, the photographer busy crowing to his assistant about the new shots. “Okay, I’m just going to change lenses and then we’ll finish the outdoor shots.” 

As Mace returned to his car, Melinda allowed her body to sag. If she really wanted relief, however, she would have to tear off the dress and find the nearest bar. Instead, she just reached behind and released a few of the faux pearl buttons along her spine. Sucking in her first deep breath of the morning,  Melinda quickly realised the groom was watching her. “ _What_?” 

“Nothing. I’m just glad I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable.” The groom suddenly began to scratch along his neck, his chest. “This suit is really cheap.” 

Melinda nodded, feeling the urge to scratch herself. “They usually are. Or they’re from a production assistant’s house. It keeps the cost down.” 

“You done many stock photo shoots?”

Another nod. The wedding shoot would make her sixth. It was reasonable money, and a good way to get photography experience. Most of the photographers she worked with were happy to give her a few pointers. She’d learnt more working in the field than she had in the one class her mother had allowed her to take back in college. And, sometimes, it wasn’t a painful dress and heels. Sometimes it could be fun. “I’ve done a few. You?

“This is my first.” The groom beamed; his smile electric away from the lens of the camera. “The book store I was working at closed, so it was either this or stripping.” 

Melinda tried to cast a neutral eye over the partner. Nice ass, reasonable legs. After years of working in martial arts studios, she could recognise muscle definition; even under a suit jacket two sizes too big. Her new husband was well defined, handsome even. Although the smug, satisfied smirk he wore as he realised she was checking him out was less so. 

“So, did you sign on to the whole package?” he asked. 

Melinda grimaced. “Unfortunately. You?” 

An eager nod. “I think it will be fun. The wedding, the house, the new baby...”

Melinda scoffed. “Well you’re not the one who has to shove a pillow up her shirt for a twelve hour shoot.” Tips were low, and rent was high. The pillow was her only option for quick cash. 

Thankfully, her partner was sympathetic. “You’re right; that is going to suck.” He suddenly pushed a hand out. She took it, reluctantly. “I’m Phil, by the way.”

“Melinda.”

Before _Phil_ could say anything more in the way of an introduction, Mace returned with his new lens. They took up position, Phil’s hand resting against the small of her back so as to hide the gape of her dress. She clutched the lapel of his suit jacket, rubbing the cheap material between her fingertips. Suddenly they felt like a couple on their wedding day. Just the simple act of a handshake had transformed Phil into someone _real._ He wasn’t student B in a college classroom, or the designated driver on a road trip, or a traveller round an airport carousel. He was _Phil._

 _“_ Just _o_ ne more shot, the newlywed kiss. Keep it PG and hold position so I can get the shot, please.”

Phil bent his head, lips brushing lightly against hers. It was sweet, subtle; a far cry from her first stock photo shoot where her partner had tried to take a chunk out of her tongue. But as the kiss dragged on, it began to grow uncomfortable. Her lips were beginning to dry, and she felt her neck begin to ache. Just as Mace was finishing the shot, Melinda felt Phil’s tongue press against the crease of her mouth. He had tried to wet his lips. In her surprise, she bit them. 

A solitary drop of blood appeared on his skin. “Shit.” Melinda brushed her thumb against his lip, hoping to stop the blood from dripping onto his suit. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise.” Phil gently held her wrist in place. “It’s going to make a great picture.” 

She promptly disagreed. But two weeks later, when the prints came back, Melinda realised he was right. 


	38. "We Are Real" [Philinda - LMDs]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> agentsphilinda prompted "Specific LMD prompt, sweet! Okay, it's a little weird, but alternate ending - PhiLMD and LMayD end up escaping somehow and run off together? Because some version of Philinda deserves to be happy?"

“Come with me.”

Days – or maybe it was even weeks– ago she and Phil had talked about taking a trip to Ireland. _Together._ He would read Ulysses in quiet country pubs, a pint of bitter resting by his elbow. She’d sip her own glass, playing darts or pool in the back room whilst Phil watched her over the top of his book. A romantic vacation meant for two people who weren’t even here. But Melinda wanted that trip. She wanted a _life_ with Phil Coulson. She would settle for the machine in front of her.

Taking another step forward, Melinda pressed a hand to his chest. She repeated those three words. “ _Come with me._ ”

His fingers clutched hers, his voice soft as if reassuring a child. “May, you don’t need to do this. I told you: we’re already together in the Framework.”

“But what about _this_ life? _This_ world?” Melinda rested her hand against the nape of his neck, pressing his forehead down to hers. “Come with me. You wanted a life away from SHIELD, we can _have_ that.”

Staring into Phil’s eyes, glassy and lifeless like a doll, Melinda knew her pleading would do her no good. There was too much machine in him; not nearly enough man. Not nearly enough _Phil._ She looked at him one last time, running her thumb along his cheek. She thought she saw a glimmer of _something._ But it wasn’t enough. “I wish we were real.”

She pulled away, her footsteps carrying her towards the blast doors. Past the spot where Daisy and Jemma had ran ( _keep safe, girls, keep safe_ ); past the explosives she had been rigged with ( _a tool, always a tool, right until the end_ ). With every step she expected a gunshot, the final act of a machine masquerading as a man. Melinda could not explain the relief she felt when the doors closed silently behind her.

Snow fell from the open hatch as she crossed the hanger bay, heading for the only car not bearing a SHIELD logo. With one hand, Melinda pulled away the sheet covering Lola. The cherry red car seemed to mock her; making her recall memories that weren’t even hers. Melinda pushed them all away, pushing forward in a desperate hunt for the keys. _Missing._ So she knelt down by the driver’s side and knocked out the compartment under the steering wheel. _Faster, faster. You can do this._

“I remember the first time you tried to steal my car.”

Phil stood in front of her. She couldn’t see his hands. Was this it? Was this how she died? “It was at the Academy. I wanted to see what the corvette felt like on the open road. You threatened to tell the instructors.”

His smile was soft. “You threatened to kick my ass.”

“You could have told me it was your car.” He’d come with her, just to make sure she didn’t get herself killed. They had driven out of the Academy and onto the highway until the first morning light. It wasn’t until two weeks later that Melinda had learned the truth. “I still don’t know why you let me take it.”

“I wanted to see what happened.” A thud echoed in the hangar bay. Melinda looked down to see two duffel bags. “I still do.” 

Phil offered her his hand. She didn’t trust him. Probably never would. But he wore Phil’s face, just as she wore Melinda May’s. It was enough. She took his hand, was pulled into his embrace. The keys to Lola dug into the small of her back; Phil’s mouth warm against her ear. In the still of the hangar bay she heard three words she would not believe, not for some time.

 _We_ are _real._


End file.
